Dearest Rachel –
It is so weird to be back in the same obscure little exurban(? I mean, it’s exurban to Tokyo, whose existence is so overwhelming that even Yokohama, the second largest city in Japan, practically ceases to exist in most people’s minds – including my own – as a separate entity) port that Daniel and I visited almost exactly a year ago. I could barely find information on this place back then – Wikipedia had nothing, so I had to rely on ChatGPT, which I’ve since learned is orders of magnitude less reliable – and now, here I am, literally in the same place, give or take a few decks of perspective.
And in fact, it is the mountain, and my dealings with it (such as they may be) that will make the difference between this visit and the last. Last year, it merely stood at a distance, able to observe us as we went about our day in the city, although clearly at that expansive remove from us. This time around, I am presumably going to get much more up close and personal with Fuji-san.
There is a Japanese proverb that states that one who climbs Mount Fuji is wise, but if one claims it twice, that person is a fool. It’s actually not meant literally – one is no more foolish for climbing Fuji than any other mountain (take that how you will) – but that one is wise for having experienced difficulty and learned from it, while to undergo the same difficulty multiple times offers no additional benefit for the extra hardship endured, and can thus be considered foolish.
We are headed to the Shizuoka Mount Fuji World Heritage Site, and, I understand, the shrine that exists there – I think they’re separate things, but when they’re spoken of in a single breath, like our guide Yamamoto-san does, it’s not entirely clear. As we pull away from the port, he fills us in on certain factoids about the area. Shimizu holds about 300 thousand people, so it’s “a medium-sized town,” from his perspective. Shizuoka, the prefectural capital of which Shimizu is effectively considered a ward of, contains over seven hundred thousand people, so I guess that makes about a million people in all (unless, by considering Shimizu as part of Shizuoka, I’m counting those three hundred thousand twice?). 42% of all green tea produced in Japan comes from Shizuoka prefecture, thanks to its mild climate and volcanic soil. But after less than ten minutes of giving out information like this, Yamamoto-san basically falls silent; even natives seem to admit that there really isn’t much to say about the area, I guess.
Honestly, I think I prefer it this way, as it allows me to collect my thoughts in real time as they come to me, rather than having to rewrite them later on, after the fact, when I’m no longer in the moment. And when we arrive, I discover that I’m not alone in this opinion; several fellow passengers comment about him being one of the quietest tour guides they’ve had on this trip, in tones that make it obvious that thay consider this statement to be high praise.
The trip to Fuijnomiya takes something like forty minutes, during which I take some shots I’m pretty pleased with…
…but once within the city limits, traffic is such that it seems that one would be better off walking from place to place, if one wanted to make any progress. Then again, once the lights turn green (okay, blue), we do manage to proceed apace, so I’m probably exaggerating.
It’s not exactly what I expected, but if you were to ask me, I don’t know what I was expecting of a Mount Fuji site. Maybe that it would be on the mountain, perhaps? But then, you probably wouldn’t have a good view of the mountain, so there’s that. I’m honestly not sure how close you can come to a mountain before you lose sight of its grandeur and majesty, and just see it as a ten-thousand foot high hill to climb.
I forget when we’re supposed to be back at the bus; I think we were told 11:45, but there are folks (albeit with different excursion tags) heading back already well before half past the hour. As I have no interest in either the gift shop or the cafe, I see no compelling reason to stay; I’ve already said more than my piece into the camera (maybe too much, in fact, as I can’t help but draw parallels between those ancients that climbed Fuji as an act of worship, and those who worship Mother Earth today by telling humanity to stop doing basically everything).
I will say that, if anyone has mastered the art of balancing mankind and nature, the Japanese are, if not the best, at least beyond competitive. They have these huge urban centers – even Fujinomiya sustains over a hundred thousand inhabitants – while still maintaining a healthy respect for nature. Granted, the occasional earthquake, tsunami, typhoon and/or volcanic eruption will teach you to respect nature, whether you want to or not, I shouldn’t wonder.
As if to confirm this, we drive just a few blocks over to the Fujisan Honshu Sengentaisha Shrine. First built in 29 BC at the behest of the eleventh Emperor (and here I thought the imperial line didn’t begin until the Heian period between 700-1200 AD), it was meant to be a supplication to the mountain to grant the citizenry protection from further eruptions. Given Japan’s place on the Ring of Fire, I can’t speak for how well it worked. They’ve had to rebuild, replace and refurbish the compound numerous times, due to its mostly wooden construction.
After a bit of filming – including brief sojourns into a wooded area and a pond fed with water piped from the Fuji snow cover – I head to the parking lot, where they’re selling food and souvenirs. It’s a way to chip into my remaining cash, in theory. I also find a collection of similar shops across the street, where I find a few of both types of things more to my liking.
I’m not quite the last one on the bus – although you would have been pleased to not that I came pretty darn close – and I’m burdened slightly by the fact that I can’t find anywhere to dispose of the ice cream cup or the plate my yakisoba came on, but at least as a single traveler, I can just set these on the seat beside me for the time being as we make our way back to the port.
The trip back is relaxing, apart from my taking pictures of what seemed like every valley on the way; hey, they don’t have valleys where I come from.
…and we’re back with just under two hours to spare. And while I may not be keen to drop over to the S-Pulse Dream Plaza on its own merits – it’s weird to think of how many places in our hometown I’ve not been to at all in the interval between wandering through here with Daniel a year ago and now – for “old time’s sake,” I have to get some footage of the place, to refresh Daniel’s memory, and to keep mine fresh as well.
I even actually get a little souvenir shopping done just before we have to pull out of the port, so it’s been a particularly successful day, all things considered. Now I have to get rested up, and ready to take on Osaka in the morning… or will it be the afternoon by the time we get there?
No matter; in either case, I’ll need you to keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck, because I’m still going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 