So this is Neoshima.
A tiny little off the charts island—about an hour offshore from Takamatsu… just recently beginning to appear on tourist maps for its art/galleries. A spontaneous cross-Japan road trip has resulted in this: our 5 sleeper tent—(packed with 6) perched on a cliffside above totally deserted beaches. As I write this, it’s about 7 am. The already blazing sun has started to bake all of our hungover selves— so? I decided to just get up, bathe myself in SPF 70, and wait for the others to rise. That said, I may be dicking about on my own for awhile, as I vaguely remember falling asleep to the other’s excited realizations that there was more bagged wine (?) in the car trunk.
Yesterday consisted of some serious ‘summer-time-beach-time.’ It was the first chance I had to actually swim in the sea--- thus, the first reason I had to shave my legs.
The latter never happened—but I did manage to successfully dodge jellyfish, choke on numerous salt-water waves, and climb random rock walls. In short—it was a great, laaaazy day.
That said, the fun really started post-sunset.
Take this incredible camp spot:
Factor in a few beers, the exchange of innumerable travel stories amongst new friends, and---- believe it or not, mini yoga lessons—mix in MUSIC, and you’ve got yourself a full on party. Then? Shake in some local Japanese island-dwellers, initially just driving by— but inevitably drawn into the dancing circle—and you get this:
This is a terrible picture- but it simply must be posted. The older man you see shaking it alongside me, is the father of the other gals--- who not only invite us to their dance recital the following day, but insist we stop by their father’s local business: a cake shop.
Oh my God awesome.
But it gets better. Naturally, after 3 hours of dancing (on rocks mind you, today my feet are shredded), one gets a) thirsty and b) sweaty… Zoom in on our grand plan: swing by beer vending machine,
get naked, and go swimming again.
Now, I wish I had pictures of the rest of this night. Not to showcase the ass-cheeks of my nudie pals--- but because it will forever simmer in the back of my mind as one of the most beautiful, incredible nights I’ve experienced to date….
Let me rack my brain for the words to paint this scene….
So.
As jellyfish are harder to see in the dark, we snuck into some private, closed off bay portion of the sea. Hoped a couple fences, climbed down a hillside--- threw off our sweat-drenched clothes—and dove into what was probably 70-degree water… The moon was a slight degree less then ‘full’—so everything was cast in this unbelievable silver-white light…..the calm water of the bay, the surrounding mountains, the rock wall that separated our cove from the choppy waves of the sea. Absolutely breathtaking. Even more incredible? Bioluminescent plankton! I’ve never seen anything like it: plankton that glow in the dark--- like mini lightening bugs of the sea. Under the moonlight, they light up—thus swimming in black water suddenly resembled bathing in a pool of silver glitter. Un-fucking-real.
My friend Eve and I ditched the others, swam across the bay and climbed over the rock wall that faced the ocean. The wind that was coming off the water felt like standing in front of a giant hairdryer--- we were dry mere seconds after emerging from the bay. The others soon joined us--- and all 6 of us just stood there: assorted hoo-ha’s flapping in the wind---facing the world (or, I suppose, facing China) under the moon, giggling to ourselves like we were all in on a joke that could never be retold.
And yet here I sit, trying to retell it…. And failing miserably.
Once, years ago—I read an otherwise un-noteworthy book with one striking scene. The narrator finds himself riding through a tunnel, from the back of his friend’s truck. Someone (probably a pretty girl, as pretty girls are always good plot propellers) flips on ‘that perfect song’ at ‘that perfect moment’—and his simple commentary on the entire experience goes as such:
‘I am epic.’
Cliché? Yup. Cheesy? For sure.
Regardless folks, on that particular night, from that particular rock ledge---- tits-up under the moonlight,
I was epic.
The next morning we managed to eat noodles, tour the island’s ‘Art House Project,’ and catch up with the prior night’s dance participants. I left my camera in the car for this portion of our day---- but we managed (with the help of the sweetest bike cop, who literally escorted us there) to find our buddy’s cake shop. He was absolutely floored at our appearance. Invited us into his tiny little hole-in-the-wall cookie making factory—and after feeding us probably 46 cookies each (Yes. Oh God. Yes.) showed us how he operated his giant cast-iron stove.
My thought process during the following hour and a half:
Oh my god these cookies are amazing.
Oh my god why didn’t I bring my camera.
Oh sweet Christ, so good.
Stupid stupid girl! You could be filming this!
Mmmmm, so delicious.
You moron!
Yes, yes, yes, more cookies.
Thus, I have no photos for you, and I’m 3 pounds heavier. Wonderful.
Except for this one. Here are the bags of cookies we bought upon our departure.
Our host was incredibly proud of his home, his family, and his history. Despite having no common language, we had no problems understanding eachother. With books of photos, he told me his story: he used to work in a huge metal factory in Hiroshima. After years of backbreaking monotony, he decided to move to the island, and do what he loved: make cookies. Perhaps to pay homage to his past, one of his cookie designs actually mirrors the shape of the metal molding he constantly sat over in the factory.
Post cookies, we found the girls practicing for their dance show,
and followed them to their friend’s larger dress rehearsal
The island’s ‘Art House Project’ that I mentioned earlier is worth describing a bit more, as it’s essentially Naoshima’s claim to fame.
Located in the district of Honmura, the project involves the restoration of old houses, and the transformation of these houses into works of art. The spaces are shaped in conjunction to architecture, previous inhabitants, and Japanese traditions and aesthetics. Ten dollars gets you in to almost all of the spaces--- some are incredibly simple: a raked rock garden covered in plastic flowers, and some are mind blowing in their complexity: a giant loft space, painted nearly every shade of blue—on one wall the side of a rusty sailboat, and in the adjacent room, a 2-story plaster mold of the statue of liberty.
And finally? Here is a series of photos on the ferry back from Naoshima. The perfect end to a perfect adventure--- during the entire 40 minutes wherein this view unfolded, I managed to solve all the world’s problems, and perhaps even a few of my own.
More to come.
