Kochi, Japan
Sunday, August 4, 2019
This morning we were escorted into the harbor by a tugboat shooting plumes of water from the water guns on its deck. The ship is tied up with port side next to the dock so because we are on the starboard side we can’t see what’s happening ashore. Like Takamatsu, Kochi is also on Shikoku Island, but on the south side. And like Takamatsu, Kochi is also rural with small farms of rice and citrus and countless greenhouses where vegetables are grown.
The population of Japan is in a decline. One third of the people are over 65 with lifespans for men and women in the 80s. This demographic shift is felt even more in the rural and farming prefectures. Education is mandatory through junior high then 90% of the children continue on to high school. After that 50% attend university. These educated people do not want to return to the farm, they prefer working in Tokyo or one of the other big cities where there is more opportunity, wages are higher and, let’s face it, there’s more to do. When they do marry and have children it is usually one or maybe two not the larger families of generations past. Every guide we’ve had in Japan has talked about this and mentioned that studies are being done but no solutions yet.
We drove along the shoreline for a while—-volcanic sand and many man-made rock jetties to help hold the sand. Not too many people about to enjoy it. We also saw signs for tsunami shelters. KZ, today’s guide, explained that in Japan, earthquakes and tsunamis are inevitable so they are prepared. The tsunami shelters look like three or four story square buildings on stilts. They, like some of the condominium buildings, are reinforced to withstand an earthquake and raised above ground to stay above a tsunami wave. She said there are sirens and also warning systems that automatically dial area cell phones. The procedure is to take shelter and cover your head during the earthquake (any of you who grew up in Calfornia probably remember being taught in school, in case of earthquake get under your desk. As I recall this “duck and cover” was also supposed to protect us from a nuclear bomb) and then immediately get to a tsunami shelter. KZ told us drills were held regularly so everyone would know what to do in case of a real event.
We headed up into the hills. Like the rest of Japan, this island is 80% mountains. We passed through small villages with larger rice paddies and more single family homes. KZ said she tried to buy a house with small garden in Kochi but land is scarce and expensive in Japan so she settled instead for a condominium.
Side note. We’ve seen this all over Japan—most apartments/condos have a small balcony which seems to be dedicated to drying laundry. Instead of clotheslines, they have metal pipes used as closet poles either attached to the building or free-standing like a temporary clothes rack you get at Bed, Bath and Beyond. My observation is that the wet clothes are put on hangars and then the hangars go on the poles on the balcony until dry.
Back to our day. About a 45 minute drive up along the Niyodo River which isn’t deep but is clear and clean and lovely. The shores are made of small rocks and sand. There are pockets of people as we drove by camping, canoeing, swimming and fishing. Japan is still in the grips of a heat wave, so that river looked so cool and inviting. But our mission: paper making!
I’ll quote from a brochure. “Japanese ‘washi’ paper is an iconic piece of Kochi’s heritage having been produced in the prefecture for more than 1,000 years. UNESCO has declared washi paper an Intangible Cultural Heritage Object.”
We went to a resort/paper factory that sells the professionally made papers and offers tourists the opportunity to make their own. Oh, boy. First instructions: roll up your sleeves and take off rings, watches and bracelets. People, we’re going in elbow-deep in this process. One at a time we take a place in front of one of the five vats of “stuff,” something from the inside of branches (sometimes things really are lost in translation) floating around in cold water. First we stir it all up (it feels like putting your arms into Jello that’s not quite set) and then dip these wooden framed screens into the goop, raise the frames up, shake them, tilt them this way for the count of five and then that way for another five and then remove the frame (it’s divided the screen into six areas about the size of a post card) and tip the screen over onto another piece of dry paper with our number (they want to make sure that you get your paper when it’s all finished) and squish out more of the water.
It sounds crazy and it really is. The place is organized madness. Several little Japanese ladies are giving instructions in rapid-fire Japanese while KZ is trying to translate every one of them all at once. And these little ladies are not shy about chastising you if you put your thumb in the wrong place or tilt the frame the wrong way. Madness, but in a good way. After finishing, it’s next to a sink to wash off this goop and then to wander about and see all the beautiful papers and objects the real paper makers create. I managed to leave with a bag of treasures. Our paper would take a while to dry so we left it there and then went off on the bus up the river until we made an ice cream stop.
What an unexpected surprise. Along the river road, in a bend of said road, was a small store famous for its ice cream, a cross between ice cream and sherbet. Cars were constantly pulling off and stopping for the stuff. We each had a container of their special vanilla. They make a slew of flavors. You could even take a ten-pack of any of your favorites home with you. Now how you could possible do this in mid-summer, mid-heat wave is a mystery. I imagine it would all be gone before you got half way home.
Next to a stop to cross the river and back, on foot, on a one lane bridge with no railings, open to both pedestrians and cars. I walked out enough to take a picture and then back off. KZ said the mountains get over 100” of rain each year which fills the river and then rushes to the sea. When the bridge had railings, trees and branches would catch in the railings, the water would back up and flood the area. The government suggested a higher and pricey bridge but the locals would have none of that. Their fix was to remove the railings so now water and any debris can pass over and head downstream without a problem. Sometimes the easiest solution is the best.
After all this we stopped back at the paper place where KZ retrieved our efforts, now neatly package in paper (what else?) bags. We each now have six postcard-sized pieces of hand made paper. Now to go on Pinterest for some clever ideas of what to do with it.
On the way back to the ship we passed a company that makes and sells gravestones. And the sign out front: “It’s a hearty stone.” Nuff said.
We got back mid-afternoon in time for chips and guac before another mandatory Muster Drill for passengers who got on before July 31. That would be us. So at 4:30 we dutifully lined up at our appointed life boat, watched the crew demonstrate how to put on a life jacket and listened again to the rules should we have to abandon ship: Put on warm clothes and shoes, take medicines, eye glasses, ID and passport. No bags, suitcases allowed. Take your life jacket and go to your Muster Station. And hope that we never have to do this for real.
We were on the shady side of the boat, thank heavens, but we missed whatever good bye production was being performed on the dock. By the time we were done, the ship was ready to leave.
We had been gone maybe 45 minutes when the Captain came across the loud speakers to announce that a passenger was ill and needed to be evacuated so we would turn around and head back to the dock. The ship did a slow turn and then began to idle in place. As luck would have it, the Pilot Boat in this harbor is the friendly and big tug boat that met us coming in this morning. The Captain then announced that the tug would take the passenger off the Maasdam and then into the dock where she could be transferred to the hospital. It was pretty smooth so the transfer (right below our balcony) went well and off the tug went.
Then the Captain announced that this had saved us probably two or three hours which was a good thing because now we’re about to out-run Tropical Storm, soon to be Typhoon, Francisco expected to hit southern Japan (our current location) tomorrow. He’s going to put the pedal to the medal so we will be clear of the storm track by morning. Since the seas are predicted to be 12 meters, we’re all a happy lot to be outta here.
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