Fukuoka & Nagasaki
It’s a strange sensation, going to bed in one country and waking up in another, seemingly without moving, but our journey from South Korea to Japan felt exactly like that. It was a long day of travelling from Tongyeong, humping the backpacks and waiting around for ages, but we eventually boarded our boat from Busan in the early evening, dodging hundreds of racing Koreans in their bid to secure the best spots to sleep in. Having read up on their typical high-seas antics we’d taken the precaution of booking a 1st class cabin (only £20 more than standard so why not?) and so avoided the mayhem. Standard accommodation was a series of communal rooms sleeping 10 people on mattresses on the floor, the body laid out towards the centre and the head enclosed in a small dividing compartment. It didn’t look great to be honest. We had a set of bunks and a load of space, and, crucially, were on a floor several decks away from the dreaded karaoke rooms, where drunk, marauding natives seem compelled to go to slaughter innocent tunes and melodies. The festivities started early and a good deal of soju was evidently being downed. We encountered a party sat outside on the deck, with a hundred items of food, already well gone and wobbling, beckoning us over in broken English. We decided to avoid them and watch the beautiful night-lit Busan skyline drift by, out under the illuminated harbour bridge and into the Sea of Japan. The passage is notorious for being rough so we wondered whether the idea to quaff as much booze as possible was some test of bravado, or whether it simply rendered you unconscious enough not to notice. For once we took the sensible option of no booze and donned wrist bracelets to combat seasickness. It mattered not – we were totally knackered, the sea was as smooth as a duck pond and we slept like babies.
On the Camellia Line ferry bound for Fukuoka
Cabin (bigger than most hotel rooms)
Busan Harbour Bridge
We were already docked at Fukuoka port when we awoke and were disembarked by 7:00am. We made it through immigration unscathed, largely put down to our volunteering to get our walking boots disinfected to avoid bringing in any nasties. After that we sailed through without checks, where others seemed to be getting the full extensive poke around.
With no chance of getting into our digs for ages, we took a bus to the monolithic Hakata station and weaved our way through the whole of humanity to find a left-luggage locker requiring several hundred coins to operate. Practicalities sorted, it was time to discover a very under-rated city. Although it’s big (about 5.5million live here), it feels small and has a surprising amount of beautiful little temples dotted around its backstreets, largely hidden away from the commercial main drags. The Kushida temple was particularly lovely with vermilion torii gates and atmospheric shinto rituals underway as we entered.
Kushida Temple, Fukuoka
Kushida Temple, Fukuoka
Kushida Temple, Fukuoka
Backstreet temple, Fukuoka
Backstreet temple, Fukuoka
A lot of our time here was spent going elsewhere and we regretted not spending another day or so in the city (as always with Japan, the temptation of ‘we could do this, then that, then this’ lures you into the hectic). However, our ‘elsewhere’ in this case proved to be superb. We visited the Nanzo-in temple, a forty minute train ride to the city outskirts, where the main draw is the big, bronze, Blue Buddha, a statue of the big fella in his trademark recumbent posture, looking serene despite the throngs gawping at him and taking idiotic selfies.
The big boy takes a nap…
Nanzo-in Temple icons
Nanzo-in Temple icons
Stop that, it tickles…..
Serene repose at Nanzo-in Temple
Our two main reasons for lingering were the best though. The first was to attend an indigo dyeing workshop in a tiny village about an hour south in the centre of Kyushu (more Helen’s thing than mine, I tagged along to photo-document the process). Though well out in the sticks, a nearby station has a Shinkansen train line running through it, so we stumped up the cash for a one way ticket, reducing the travelling time from over an hour to a mere 22 minutes. We’ve been on these before, on Honshu, but we thrilled to be on one again. The sleek elongation of the nose cone, the silky smooth running, the tilt as it corners at 300km an hour – just marvellous stuff. We arrived on this wonder of locomotion at a miniscule affair of a station called Chikugo-Funagoya. No problem getting a taxi from a Shin station, we thought. Not a taxi in sight…. We tried Uber and Go (a Japanese ride-hailer) to no avail, then decided to commandeer the services of a lovely lady manning an information shack (information on what we never fathomed – the joys of nothing to do?) who called a man with a cab. An old guy wearing pristine white gloves turned up a little later in the most immaculate taxi you’ve ever seen. You’d have been happy to eat your dinner off it. We gingerly got in, hoping not to soil its ambiance by our mere presence and were promptly given a gift. A small pack of tissues was presented to each of us with great ceremony. We didn’t know whether we were expected to use them right away or not, but since neither of us needed anything wiping or blowing we secreted them away surreptitiously. Fifteen minutes later we delicately removed ourselves, checked for crumbs and wandered into the workshop.
The tradition of Indigo dyeing, or Aizome as it’s known in Japanese, is a big thing here. Also known as ‘Japan Blue’ or ‘Kachi’, the deep richness of the colour became hugely popular at the start of the Edo period (around 800 years ago) when the use of cotton clothing became widespread. Samurai habitually wore garments that incorporated the colour and considered it as a key to military success – ‘kachi’ also means ‘win’ in Japanese. Helen was keen to see how the techniques were used and to experience having a go at it herself.
We were met by a tiny girl who communicated with us via Google and, along with a French couple, were escorted to the dyeing shop. Here a number of different designs were explored and Helen chose to dye a white scarf in a random mottled effect known as Murakumozome, a technique chosen to produce uneven colours and shades. This was achieved by scrunching the fabric into a tight ball and tying it up using thick ribbon. The ball was then placed into a steaming vat of hot water for several minutes, then thoroughly rinsed in cold water. Next, wearing attractive wellies, a fetching housecoat and vibrant blue rubber gloves (ooh), Helen dipped her ball several times into the indigo, under strict supervision by the dye master. There was a lot of squeezing and further dipping and then another thorough rinse before the result was unveiled. A lovely, light blue and white scarf emerged and she was well chuffed with the result. We walked back to another, nearer station where cheap local trains chugged back to the big smoke, happy with our endeavours both.
The ‘dye master’ shows us how it’s done
Squeezing hard
The end result 1
The end result 2
The other main attraction with Fukuoka was its proximity to a festival we’d been looking forward to, the Karatsu Kunchi, a glorious colourful three day event occurring each November in a nearby town, though we only attended for one of the days. There’ll be another post on this coming shortly……
Though our apartment was tiny and had literally the world’s smallest kitchen (we’ve had much bigger ones in camper vans) we were a little reluctant to leave this surprisingly attractive city, but the lure of Nagasaki was too much to fend off any longer. A final night at a local place in a rundown shopping centre with a kind and effusive manager (we got a free beer and sake with our cheap but gorgeous fried mackerel) and we were off again.
Sumiyoshi Temple, Fukuoka
Sumiyoshi Temple, Fukuoka
Nagasaki loomed large on our itinerary. We’d missed it out on our first Japanese trip, but were more than keen to get it seen this time. Helen had booked us a ‘healing room’ at the hotel (it was the only one left after the town was booked out for a Pokemon Go festival, whatever the hell that is) so our first experience wasn’t anything to do with the city’s rich trading heritage or its tragic recent past as only one of two places ever to have experienced nuclear bombing. No, it was the hotel room’s massage chair – a big, black leather monster of a thing, stuck right in the middle of the room, leaving not much space to get round / use the wardrobe / go to bed etc. It had an automated panel with instructions and buttons in Kanji. I was made to volunteer and was subjected to several unscientific experiments whereby random buttons were pressed to see how much pain could be inflicted. The effects were unusual, and indeed rather painful. Some squeezed the feet, trapping you in. Some grabbed the neck and squeezed hard. Some pummelled your back with large plastic nodules. Some ran up and down your spine, pushing you upwards so that your back arched in and out. It took a bit of persuading for me to get some revenge, but to be fair Helen gamely allowed herself to be subjected to similar weird contortions and pummelling. A trip to the local S&M dungeon might not be out of the question after all….
Alas, only a short time for sado-masochism as we’d booked ourselves on a tour to Hashima Island, a former mining centre and home to a social experiment that had huge ramifications for Japanese society. Also known as Gunkunjima (Battleship) Island, the place has a profile that resembles the Second World War battle-cruiser ‘Tosu’ viewed from certain angles. It’s probably most famous nowadays though as being a location in the film ‘Skyfall’, where Bond and arch-villain Raoul Silva have a William Tell style shooting match using a fine whisky and a redundant courtesan.
Hashima Island profile
Hashima Island ruins
The island became a mining colony after a seam of valuable, long burning coal was discovered and was expanded through land reclamation, to the point where it was increased threefold in size. A housing experiment was conducted here whereby reinforced concrete was used for the first time to build upwards, constructing high-rise living accommodation never seen before. The colony was considered a success (though we were appalled to think that over 5,000 people were crammed into this tiny space, the world thought otherwise and high-rises shot up everywhere). The mine closed when the coal ran out in the 1970s and the place was abandoned and quickly deteriorated. It’s now a wonderfully derelict museum piece, though sadly not one where you can roam at will (unlike the abandoned town of Pripyat, near the Chernobyl nuclear reactors in Ukraine, where you get to risk your life treading on collapsing floors to your heart’s content). We had to settle for a small, safe path along with many Japanese tourists, but it was wonderful nonetheless.
Hashima Island ruins
A less wonderful experience was the obvious outcome at the Atomic Bomb Museum, but perhaps not for the right reasons. It’s well known that Nagasaki was the unfortunate second choice target for the second atomic bomb after Hiroshima was destroyed three days earlier in August 1945, and having seen the museums and memorials there, we were keen to see how Nagasaki compared. Elements of the museum were, to my mind, entirely appropriate. There were no holds barred in the descriptions and depictions of the devastation, the aftermath, the charred human remains, the effects of radiation – all brutal, all stark and all real. What really grabs you though are the testimonies of survivors, the horrors of seeing their families and homes wiped out, the guilt of living when everyone else seems to be dead or dying. I’m not going to repeat them here, but suffice to say some of the sights and experiences are almost unbelievably horrific. Alas, as with all things public, there’s always the danger that your experience will be impacted by others and in this case it was the presence of half the schools in Nagasaki that descended on the place and made it impossible to enjoy, if enjoyment was ever a thing to be had. Well behaved to be honest, but sheer numbers did for it. We were glad to escape in the end.
Atomic Bomb Museum, Nagasaki
Replica of ‘Fat Man’
Remembrance Hall, Atomic Bomb Museum, Nagasaki
We toured associated sights, various statues and monuments advocating peace and an end to nuclear weapons, all worthy of course, but all somewhat saddening in their overt optimism, or somewhat galling, as in the case of the ‘mir’ statue donated by Russia. We had a sushi lunch on a bench at the exact point the bomb exploded overhead just over 80 years earlier. Not your average place for a picnic.
One-legged Torii Gate
Atomic Bomb hypocentre monument
A less well known, but arguably more important aspect of Nagaski’s history has been recreated in the centre of town. In the Edo period, Japan shut itself off from the outside world for over 200 years. The only contact they had with the west was through a small Dutch trading concession, situated on a miniscule fan-shaped island built for the purpose in the harbour. This was Dejima, the Dutch East Indies company toehold in Japan and one which helped secure their massive commercial success at the time. Long since subsumed into the wider city, efforts have recently been made to re-create the 17th century warehouses and represent how the trade influenced both Europe and Japan in hugely significant ways. For Japan this included exposure to emerging European science, the introduction of new techniques for cloth manufacture and the emergence of sugar in food. In Europe it inspired a fascination for all things Japanese, a reappraisal of how to use natural medicinal plants and a fad for lacquerware (known as ‘Japan’ at the time, just as all things porcelain were known as ‘China’). The overall effect of the recreation is surprisingly good. We expected a bit of theme-park (you can hire kimonos and 17th century Dutch costumes), but there was none of that when we were there, just a strong historical focus and some fabulous buildings.
Our busy day of sightseeing concluded with a trip up another cable car to a hill overlooking the Nagasaki bay, to an observation platform with a view considered to be one of the top three night-scapes in the world, alongside Shanghai and Monaco. Pretty it was, but spectacular it was not. We got to see a beautiful sunset at least.
Sunset over Nagasaki Bay
Nagasaki Bay
We rounded off our time here with a quick tripette out to Glover Gardens, where a strike-it-rich Scotsman built his house having made it big in coal and shipping as the country opened itself up to foreign influence in the 19th century. Another opportunity for Japanese girls to dress up, this time in period costumes from the mid 1800s. Selfies, posing and not much interest in anything else – how many times have we seen that on this trip……
Footnote: There are around 40 trams still clunking and clanking their way around the streets of Nagasaki. All were built in 1915 and all survived the bomb (though around 16 others did not). Exuding charm and character in abundance, they’re wonderful and enduring symbols of the city’s will to survive. Unlike the trams in Lisbon, these manage to stay on the rails…
Spot the cool one in the shades on the left…
Simon (7th November 2025)
Glad you are in Japan. When i was a teenager (,long ago) i did tie dyed t shirts when it was in fashion . Bullet train is fantastic isn’t it
Must be sad to look at the remains of atomic bombs. Keep enjoying yourselves and stay safe. Love mum ❤️
Yes that day was a little depressing as you can image, but useful to remind yourself how lucky we are, now and again. Loads of school kids about, but on reflection that can only be a good thing if it teaches them the horrors of war of course. Still on Kyushu at the moment, but off to Shikoku tomorrow!