Mojiko: Walking Under the Ocean

In case you are just joining us, the previous installment of this writing is here:

Shimonoseki: The Simple Gratitude of a Pedestrian

—

The guesthouse seems close enough. Google tells us to take the train across the strait, then to wait an hour, and then transfer to another train which will finally take us to Mojiko. Maybe not as close as we thought.

“That’s going to take all morning!” Suhee picks her head up from the map. She looks out into the strait and points to a tall building across the water. “Mojiko is right there! I can see it!”

A stream of thick grey clouds moves swiftly across the strait as Suhee examines the map again, more closely. She might love maps even more than me. She squints, scrolls, zooms, and furrows her brow. Then she notices something curious. An under-sea pedestrian tunnel.

“What do you think? We can walk. It might be better than the train.”

A wee shaft of sunlight comes down in the distance. It penetrates the waters of the strait with a surprisingly bright glimmer. I squint my eyes as I look out, and then at the map. Indeed, there is a pedestrian tunnel under the sea, connecting Shimonoseki and Mojiko. I look at our bags. A small suitcase, a large suitcase, and our backpacks. “We can do it,” I tell Suhee, casually adding “I’ve been working out,” while flexing my biceps. Suhee rolls her eyes. I secretly hope that the incline in the tunnel is not too treacherous.

Kanmon Tunnel, we learn, is one of the longest undersea tunnels in the world dedicated to pedestrians. It connects the Japanese islands of Honshu and Kyushu. The air inside is thick and wet at this time of year and yet joggers, school kids, couples, and people pushing their motor bikes join these two tourists, dragging their suitcases. Luckily there are elevators on both sides of the tunnel. Definitely not treacherous.

After several breaks along the way — for tea, for bread, and for saying hello to another local shrine god — we arrive to the guesthouse by late morning on foot. Too early to check into the room, we leave our bags and start to walk the town. First on my list is to visit the closest shotengai shopping street, while Suhee wants to visit the park for a nap.

We do both, in order.

The local shotengai is sparsely populated this time of day and few shops seem open, yet in short time we already have in our possession: some tea snacks, a new teacup, and — as we are in Fukuoka prefecture — some Gyokuro tea leaves.

“Enough shopping?” I ask Suhee as I pack the tea into our backpack. She nods. Suddenly two Swallows buzz her dome and swoop down. They duck into one side of the shopping street.

A shopkeeper sees the birds. She also sees us, tilting our heads to watch the birds. “Come have a look.” the shopkeeper says, motioning us calmly into the row of shops. Heading around the corner, a small cluster of stores is revealed. There is a fish shop here, a florist, a clothing shop, and then, five baby birds in a nest adhered to the wall. The birds are being fed by their parents [see video below].

Florist lady and clothing shop lady stand around and chat about the birds. They must be used to their urban nesting habits and they laugh as we take videos. Although Swallow nests can be messy, they tend to be welcomed by shopkeepers. If a Swallow selects your home or shop as their nesting place, this is something to be proud of. Quite good luck. Such good luck in fact, that many a celebration is had when these birds return each year for mating season. Can you imagine inviting friends over for a party, to celebrate the return of mating Swallows?

Lovely excuse for a party, if you ask me.

Though this scene is relatively common in urban Japan, it does not make it any less amazing to us every time we see urban dwellers welcoming and celebrating other living beings who, for various reasons, choose to live in the city.

After bidding farewell to the Swallows, the shoe shop lady and the clothing shop lady, we reach the park. Soon, Suhee is in a deep nap. Meanwhile, I meet another bird — an Oriental Turtle Dove. Her gaze is typically shifty and I wonder what her view of the world is like. Somehow, those beady little eyes seem to be contemplating a building on top of a nearby hill. This might just be my projection though. Why would a Turtle Dove contemplate a building?

As I draw the scene, an old woman walks by slowly. She pushes a cart filled with groceries and a bag of bread crust on top. She sings. A slow rolling ‘raaaa’ with one step, and a ‘riiii’ with another step. The Turtle Doves know this song. They gather. She sits, takes out the bread crumbs, and sings and chats with them in a grove of Japanese Redwood trees.

They are magnificent. The woman, the Turtle Doves, and the trees, together.

In another context, this woman might be written off as crazy. Who knows, maybe she is, but in this moment something about this feels good. Or, pure? This is a dove-lady-musical, and we are the audience.

Above the trees, that deep grey blanket is still holding the sun at bay and yet for a moment there is once more the smallest pocket of blue. It opens, closes, and then a light mist begins to fall. Suhee wakes up from her nap. Refreshed.

“It’s looking at that building up there.” I tell Suhee. She stares blankly at me. I show her the drawing. “You see, here. This old building. We should walk there.”

“It’s almost dinner time. Are you hungry?” asks Suhee.

“Hai! And I guess this place might be a restaurant.”

As evening approaches, we pack up our things, nod goodbye to the Turtle Dove lady and the magnificnt trees, and set out on foot once again.

This story, of a journey through Mojiko, Japan, continues again next week.

Thank you everyone for being here with me. It is striking to me how, in a very short timespan, we met multiple people — the Turtle Dove lady and the shopkeepers — who have meaningful connections with non-human beings. What are some examples of human-nature relationships you have experienced … or want to experience in the city?

If you are not signed up yet, you can go ahead and do it below. If you are, you can help keep this little publication going by thinking of a friend or colleague who might like this work, and sharing it with them. As always, I encourage you to join the club of paid subscribers if you have the means.

Finally, if you enjoy urban bird illustrations, there exists a beautiful collection of them from the Substack of Emmy Kangas in Japan. Emmy has taken a break from the series, but it remains a beautiful collection to explore.