Noodle School & the Scarecrow Village
Time spent studying how to dance ‘Gangnam Style’ turned out to be a worthwhile investment and Helen’s moves outshone those of everyone else as she stomped on her plastic bag full of udon noodle dough. This was the climax of the class at the Nakano Udon School in Kotohira, in which we were all required to dance to songs played at full blast over the loudspeaker (Helen also got ‘Dancing in September’, I got ‘YMCA’) whilst kneading our dough with our heels. Those not on kneading duty were required to bang away on a tambourine to encourage the stompers, with everyone egged on by the microphone wielding noodle mistress who seemed to be having even more fun than the rest of us. All at 9 o‘clock in the morning.
Not exactly what we were expecting. It had started fairly sedately with pairs of pupils sitting opposite each other on long tables, pressing pre-prepared rectangles of Japanese Churiki-ko flour mixed with water, rolling it out in a very specific fashion and carefully chopping the result up into precise 4mm strips. We were both commended for our dough distribution prowess, though our childish pride was short lived as Madame Udon apparently said the same to everyone. But it got strange when the list of essential equipment provided for actually making the dough included a large yellow tambourine. A bowl of flour, a jug of water and the said percussion instrument were placed at the table side and it all went awry from there. We took it in turns to flake up the pastry, then squash into a ball, finding a rhythm for our actions from rapid beats of the tambourine supplied by the other. Then the same karaoke machine used by the pissed-up clown that chased us in Tongyeong was wheeled out and the real fun started. We thought we were getting into it, but some of the Japanese students went beserk . One bloke donned a bandana, yelled “Banzai!” and stomped up and down as if his life depended on it. Totally mental.
Madame Udon gets us going
The sign reads ‘These are the noodles…’ (how appropriate)
Dough-ty Dancing
Prior to this we’d made our way to Shikoku island and reached the small town of Ozu. Our journey from Aso to Beppu and over the sea through the port of Yawatahama was easy, though with around 10 different stages it took forever and it was well dark by the time we got off the train. We stayed in a rather weird place, the Ozu Walking Pilgrimage Hotel, which was basically someone’s front room with two mattresses and a very strict set of bathroom arrangements. We were required to shower forthwith. We were not allowed to do so in the morning. There was to be no breakfast. We must leave by 8am, promptly and with no exception. OK then. The local Japanese Italian restaurant next door was also slightly peculiar. Clearly a new and nervous enterprise, the owners eagerly awaited our verdict on our bowls of spaghetti and were overly delighted when we gave a hearty thumbs up.
With only a few hours before our departure for the city of Marugame, we spent a few, early, misty morning hours in town, some at the Audrey Cafe, a lovely little local place run by an elderly and most welcoming Japanese couple with an apparent penchant for Audrey Hepburn. Several portraits and images adorned the walls and the mood was enhanced by an eclectic selection of songs, including Cliff Richard’s ‘Lucky Lips’ and The Shangri-La’s ‘Leader of the Pack’…That, plus a cheap breakfast and some wonderful coffee (‘Audrey blend’) and we were well restored.
Moody mist in Ozu
Ozu
Due to a slight misunderstanding around the closing time of the local castle, our arrival at the apartment in Marugame (after lugging the packs a good half hour from the station) was a little chaotic. It was another 2 kilometres away and we needed to get there before last admission as there’d be no other opportunity to see it. Luckily our hosts had left us two fold-up city bicycles to use, so quickly chucking the bags inside, we peddled off furiously through the streets, then route marched our way up a very steep hill. Tired and sweaty in the late afternoon sun, we realised it stayed open for another hour. It was also tiny and took around 3 minutes to visit. Complete idiots.
The pint-size Marugame Castle
It wasn’t even the reason we’d come here. Marugame is a convenient place to visit some of Shikoku’s 88 Shinto temples. There’s a well established walking route around the island (hence the ‘walking pilgrimage’ name for the hotel in Ozu) that takes devotees around a month to complete, or 2 weeks if you cheat and use the bus. We were planning on walking a mini-version of it ourselves, but on the basis we had bikes, decided to cycle round a few instead.
Temple No.76 (Konzo)
Temple No.76 (Konzo)
Temple No.76 (Konzo)
On a wonderfully clear and bright day we made a 25 kilometre round-trip to visit 5 of the temples in the surrounding towns and hills, and they were stunningly beautiful. Calming down from our over exuberance of the night before, we opted for a more relaxed pace and gently peddaled our way down the pavements (that’s the done thing here). At some there were very few people around, excepting the odd few pilgrims that meandered through, stopping for prayers, then moving off to the next place. Most pilgrims use a stout staff to take the strain, wear white, circular sedge hats & white vests and carry small bells. The sound of gentle tinkling is a sure sign that pilgrims are on the move and made for a soothing soundtrack to the experience. What the experience also brought was a rather stiff pain in the buttocks. Some suitable suffering in lieu of sackcloth and ashes for our own endeavours.
Temple No.75 (Zentsuji)
Temple No.75 (Zentsuji)
Temple No.75 (Zentsuji)
Temple No.75 (Zentsuji)
Temple No.75 (Zentsuji)
Temple No.72 (Mandaraji)
Temple No.73 (Shusshsaka)
Temple No.72 (Mandaraji)
Temple No.72 (Mandaraji)
It was our actual wedding anniversary that day, so we decided to round it off by doing something we’ve not done for 8 months. We bought an expensive bottle of sake and stayed in to watch a film on the apartment’s home projector system. Mundane in normal circumstances, it was a massive novelty on this trip…..
Slightly groggy the morning after, we quickly packed and got the first train to Kotohira as our udon school demanded early attendance. We were somewhat tired after our noodling exploits and decided a little hair of the dog was in order. Luckily the nearby sake museum had tasting sessions on offer, so after a review of the exhibits (including a mesmeric video of how sake is made – there are many similarities to beer brewing as it happens), we paid for some tokens to use at the automated sampling machine. Six of the brewery’s products were on offer, in bottles with pipes attached. A deposited token allows you to press a button and catch your sake sample in a pot which is then used to fill your sake cups. We did all six, had a loud and rambling conversation about each one, then ranked them all in order. Remarkably, our choices coincided with the relative expense of each bottle, which reflected the quality of the sake itself. Clearly we are supreme sake aficionados and it was not sheer luck at all.
Reinvigorated, we headed out to Kotohira’s Kabuki theatre. Kabuki is a classical Japanese performance of dance, drama and music and is renowned for its outlandish costumes and make-up. Unfortunately there was no production to be seen when we were here (it seems to be very much a dying art now, with only a few places in the country putting on very infrequent performances), but we got to see the theatre itself which retains its traditional layout and seating arrangements. The stage is surrounded on three sides by bamboo segregated squares in which the audience sits cross legged, with scarlet hanging lanterns above. The stage is made of heavy wood and has a circular section that can be revolved from beneath via a man-powered arrangement (two men pushing wooden pillars using embedded cobble stones for foot grips). More hanging lanterns sit above, decorated with symbols representing the names of the performing actors. These are attached to a bamboo grid ceiling, open to the roof, from which cherry blossoms are sprinkled onto the audience at the end of every show. The place was a wonder and we were gutted we didn’t get to see a performance.
Kabuki Theatre, Kotohira
Our other reason for coming to this part of Shikoku was to visit the Iya Valley. Originally we’d intended to do this over a few days with a hire car, but as we’re unable to rent one here (we don’t have the right permit!) we arranged for a private taxi tour around the ‘sights’ as a day trip. Not quite as good, but the best we could muster in the circumstances.
Most tours of this kind do a route of bucolic view-points and statues to take in the beauty of the area, and indeed it is very beautiful. But we were interested in a couple of things that are largely unique – the vine bridges that dot the valleys and the tantalising ‘scarecrow village’.
First a sedate, touristy and pretty boring ‘cruise’ on the Oboke river, travelling at a pace that might have shamed a glacier and waving to other Japanese tourists who seemed to be loving it. It would have been unworthy of a mention were it not for the pilot of the boat who sounded like he was theatrically choking back the tears as he explained in Japanese what we were seeing (just rocks as it happens). We desperately wanted to give him a hug in case he decided to end it all there and then.
Kazurabashi bridge
After that, our first vine bridge. This was the Iya-no-Kazurabashi, a 45 metre long bridge woven from hard-wearing shirokuchi kazura vines, suspended about 15 metres above the river below. It was covered by a hundred tourists. We braved the throng and slowly made our way across the little bouncy playground the bridge had apparently become, with little opportunity to marvel at the construction of intertwined vines. Rather disappointingly, but wholly understandably, the whole construction is now supported by partly hidden steel cables, which tends to distract from the romance even further…
However, our next stop was the Oku Iya double vine bridges, reached by a drive down narrow single track lanes where tour buses were unlikely to venture. As expected, our experience here was markedly better. Other than another couple, we were the only people there and could enjoy these marvelous constructions at our leisure. Built in the same way as the Kazurabashi bridge (though alas, also with ‘hidden’ steel), these ‘male’ and ‘female’ twins sit in a wonderful wooded landscape, made ever more wondrous by the wealth of autumnal foliage on display. Here it was magical and we spent ages exploring. Next to the bridges was a small box attached to cables in which you could sit and haul yourself over the river to the other side, though some party-pooper had cordoned it all off. Can’t have everything I suppose….
The Oku Iya bridges
The Oku Iya bridges
Oku Iya bridges
Female on the ‘female’ Oku Iya bridge
Perhaps the most memorable part of the trip, however, was a rather bizarre and somewhat disturbing visit to the hamlet of Nagoro, aka the ‘scarecrow village’. We knew there was something strange going on the moment we drove into the small car park. Around a tiny community centre were gathered a number of human-like figures, sitting or standing motionless. They were dressed in normal clothing – jeans, sweaters, overalls, cardigans. Some were turned around and were peering into the hall. But most looked outwards and were staring at us.
The intimidating welcoming committee
The taxi dropped us off and we went inside the hall. More figures were distributed around the room. We noticed that the details of faces were different, perhaps unique to each scarecrow. But these were not simple straw-men wearing outfits, these were elaborate attempts to create a village of replacement humans, with some made to look like villagers who’d left years before. The concept was devised by the still resident Ayano Tsukimi, a villager who returned from Osaka in the early 2000s and was struck by the absence of people. Many read deep intentions into her efforts, such as raising the profile of rural depopulation in general, but the lady herself simply needed to stop the birds eating the seeds in her garden, made one scarecrow, then just decided to make more and more, perhaps subconsciously trying to fill the gaps that real people once occupied.
We went over to the gymnasium, a huge space now inhabited with hundreds of dummy people. To say it was eerie would be a massive understatement. Just Helen and myself, wandering through the people, all motionless. It was like the Village of the Damned. Some were frozen in a ‘tug of war’ pose or ‘reading’ magazines, but most were simply there, and staring. We half expected one to suddenly move to surprise us. Apparently, we found out later, Ms Tsukimi does exactly that now and again, sitting motionless and waiting for the right moment to pounce. We would have soiled ourselves had that happened……
The living dead waiting for the gym to open
Give us a kiss (and I’ll bite your head off)
The Trumps visit Nagoro
Don’t let her in!
The residents enjoy some leisure time
As we left the gym we noticed a dummy version of James May, holding a board with his signature. Just one of many who’ve come here to make documentaries about the place it seems.
Outside, the scarecrow population was engaged in other activities. Some were tilling the fields, others sat at a bus stop. All were staring. We got the impression that the majority of visitors here find the spectacle rather charming, and indeed it seems to be getting pretty high on the Shikoku tourist’s agenda. But impressive as it was in execution and scale (there are over 400 of these creatures knocking about the place), we found it slightly alarming and really rather troubling. It might be starting to pull in the punters, but for us it was the stuff of nightmares……
Making hay in Nagoro
Help me! I’ve been trapped in here for years….
Foodnote: Kotohira claims to be the birthplace of the udon noodle and the whole town seems to be dedicated to selling and shouting about them. We didn’t cook our own noodles directly after the class (more on that in the next post) but decided to sample them in a little local place. On tasting them we could understand what the fuss was about. Thick and slithery, ever so slightly chewy, difficult to grab with chopsticks whilst maintaining any sort of dignity, but supremely tasty. We’ve had udon before in cheap and cheerful cafes, but these were a real marvel. Washed down with an umami tasting broth and a couple of beers. Heavenly.
Foodnote: In Marugame, at the now obligatory stop at the local craft brewery pub, we chanced upon a Japanese version of fish & chips. Though we love Japanese food, it’s still the case that you crave variety when you can get it, so this was too good an opportunity to miss. The Japanese know everything there is to know about fish and they’re not too shabby when it comes to batter either (reference the joys of tempura), so we figured it would be a reasonable bet. The outcome was pretty amazing and to be honest outshone many an offering from the local chippy back home. Thick white flakes (of which fish we know not as translation proved difficult), with perfect, not too crispy, dark batter and a sprinkling of small wedgey chips. Simply wonderful. An unexpected home comfort in a totally unexpected place.
Hot and tired, Helen has a paddy
Helen shows off her new halo after all that pilgrimming
Simon (20th November 2025)
This part of your adventure sounds weird but fascinating, Noodles and Doodles, love the residents but like you I would have nightmares especially if they had moved. The Bridge would have scared me too, Helen was brave again. The temples looked beautiful. Fabulous Photos as usual Simon. XX
Thank you. The bridges were not too scary tbh, not like Pakistan…
Im looking forward to Helen replicating the dancing when shes back home 😅
I think the scarecrows would have freaked me out as well, definitely the kind of setting for a halloween movie !!
It was. I’m still having disturbing flashbacks even now….