A Little Miracle in Milan

I stepped out of the Orio al Serio, otherwise known as the Milan Bergamo Airport, into the blistering cold. From the air, Bergamo looked like a charming little spot of russet-colored villages bounded by the snow-capped Alps, and I would have loved to see it, but I simply didn't have the time nor the resources. So I hopped onto the Autostradale bus going to Milan Centrale station as soon as I stepped on Bergamo-soil and sucked on the Lavender lollies I got in Toulouse as the bus went on it's way to the fashionable city of Milan.

From The Silken Backpack

Bergamo from the air

As soon as I got to Milan Centrale, I was amused. I could hear several people speaking Tagalog as well as some other Philippine dialects and I was just in stitches over it. I couldn't help but be reminded of the Filipino movie "Milan" and about how there are so many Filipinos in Italy. But I had an itinerary and some business must be done.

First, I went and bought my evening train ticked to Modena, which cost me less than 10 euros, then I bought a phone card, called my aunt to tell her Im in Milan and dumped my luggage in the baggage counter practically in one breath. I was thus, prepared to take on the city of Milan. But I had one problem. I needed a map. Trusting that all train stations the world over with an acreage the size of a university must house a tourist office, I went around asking every security guard "Scusi, dove e la...err... tourist office... err... officia de turisto?" (Roughly translated to "Excuse me, where is the..er... tourist office... err ***** [I hope to God this is how you say Tourist Office in Italian]) They weren't much help though, they pointed me this way, then that way and I was irrevocably and pathetically lost... in a train station. I was feeling really ridiculous at this point. This was me! I explored cities on my own, I practically memorized the entire city of Singapore in 3 days! I was the great Filipina traveler, the global homeless, hell, I was practically born with a GPS gadget attached to my spleen and there I was, lost, IN A TRAIN STATION.

From The Silken Backpack

Bored and Lollied out, the Milan Centrale Station and the streets of Milan

I was having none of it, so I took myself to one corner of the station, made it my starting point and started to search from there (this is a little trick I learned from supermarkets or any huge stores in general. To cover everything, start from a point and return there) It took me a good hour of wandering before I found that damn tourist office or what should be described as "a door leading to a table with two people standing behind it" It took me less than 2 minutes to say "Buon giorno" to the lady, ask for a map in Inglese and get my sorry ass out of there.

I finally got out to the streets of Milan, shaking my head and feeling mighty stupid. But excitement saved me from the woes of travel mishaps and I studied the map and figured out the route i was going to take. Milan seemed compact enough to do things on foot so i just started walking and walking. I drank everything in, the street trams, the miniature cars, the graffitti. I was in Italy, one of my dream countries, I could hardly believe it! I was heading off to the Duomo, one of the grandest Gothic churches in the world. I passed by several fashionable streets and saw tall, glamorous women clutching big portfolios (they were no doubt models, going from one fashion house to another). It all seemed fantastically unreal to me, if the cold weren't biting on my face so much I would have thought I was dreaming.

Finally, somewhere near a huge Armani store, I came upon Piazza della Scala and the famous Teatro alla Scala, one of the oldest and best-established opera houses in the world. I gawked and I took pictures, as was required by the Treaty of Gawking Awe-struck Tourists. I crossed the street to the statue of Leonardo da Vinci and once again took pictures and gawked.

From The Silken Backpack

The statue of Leonardo da Vinci, the Teatro all Scala

It started to drizzle so I ran into the nearby Galleria Vittorio Emanuele and was promptly transported to the movie Milan, I was half-expecting to see Piolo Pascual in some corner, spinning like a top with tears flowing down his face. (You have to watch the movie to figure out what I'm talking about)

From The Silken Backpack

The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele

The shopping gallery with its sky-high ceilings of arched panes of glass was so beautiful, it just took my breath away. I walked slowly, relishing every step. I looked at the stores, I looked at the architecture, I looked at the people and I looked at the tiles on the floor. It was just incredible. I walked the entire length of the galleria until I came upon the expansive Piazza del Duomo. Now this Piazza is HUGE! I walked around it and just stared. I made a bee-line for the Duomo and soon as I saw it, I knew what all the fuss was about. It was in a word: unique. From afar, it looked to me like a building made of those skinny rolls of newspaper or telephone directory that they make in arts and crafts. Up close, i found that it was made of marble with a plethora of intricate designs and details so specific and so defined, it can only be seen with a real close look. The spires were not the only ones that made it look so gothic, it was the fact that it had all these statues of saints, angels, beasts, demons and men with their innards flowing out of the bodies that made the church seem historically important, architecturally priceless, and for me, simply creepy. I understand how it can be a prime example of Gothic architecture, I can even appreciate the art, but personally, I don't see myself building my faith in that church AT ALL. I'll just be spooked out.

From The Silken Backpack

The Duomo and its creepy statues

Anyway...

After refusing to pay 2 euros to a very insistent man in order to feed the pigeons that dotted the whole piazza gray, I continued with my exploration. I walked away from the Duomo towards the Castello Sforzesco. This is basically a castle where the Sforza-Visconti ruling families of Milan resided many many years ago. It houses several museums, all of which I didn't bother to see, instead I asked an Italian girl to take my picture in front of the huge fountain in front of the castle. I had my priorities straight, uh huh.

From The Silken Backpack

Snapshots of Milan

The Castelllo Sforzesco is magnificent and beautiful, made of burnt terracotta-colored bricks darkened to a palette telling of its age and history. A walk inside the castle was like a step back in time, with courtyards that looked straight out of a period movie, I was half expecting to witness an all-out Capulet-Montague war. I wandered around the castle, gravitating toward the nooks and crannies and taking indecent amount of pictures, capturing in each click of the shutter, a complete marvel.

I went out at the back of the castle and found myself entering Sempione Park. This is probably Milan's answer to Central Park. It's a huge expanse of green grass, dotted with trees browned by winter. There was a lake and in front of it the Arco della Pace (the arch of peace) with it's statue of a gladiator (or an emperor, who knows?) in a chariot, looking like it was about to jump off the arch into the lake for a quick dip in the freezing waters.

From The Silken Backpack

My token shot in front of the fountain of Castello Sforzesco, courtyards of the castello and Sempione Park

I sat in a bench and had my late lunch, comprised of dried smoked sausage, half a Pave (a french type of bread), pickled gerkins, slices of camembert, chocolates and coke, all of which I brought with me from Paris (save the coke). I sat there on that bench, on that cold drizzling afternoon, tearing at the bread with my teeth and staring at the scene before me in pure wonder. It didn't matter that I was eating this meager fare as my first meal in Italy, I've never felt so European and I was having the time of my life.

After my quick lunch, I walked around the park, took pictures, checked the time and figured I'd best head out. I left the park, navigated with the map and with the help of a couple of fashionably dressed Milanese women, finally found the Santa Maria delle Grazie. The relatively simple, unimposing church that houses one of the world's most important works of art: the Il Cenacolo, known the world over as Leonardo da Vinci's "The Last Supper"

Now, with all the research I've done before this trip, I've found out that there is basically one and only ONE way of seeing the Il Cenacolo, and that is to make a reservation waaaayy in advance. Browsing through the forums, several people have shared their experiences wherein they had to make reservations around 2-3 months before and even then, to get a spot would be a lucky break. There was one entry I remember correctly that said "Well, if you can't get a reservation, you can always just stop by and see if you can get in, but THAT would be a miracle."

So I logged onto the Il Cenacolo's website, chose the date and the time and found the whole day full to the freaking brim. The next available slot would be for the next day. I wasn't going to be in Milan the next day so as bummed as I was about that, I figured it just wasn't meant for me.

Knowing full well that I wans't going to have an audience with the Il Cenacolo, I just wanted to go to Santa Maria delle Grazie to take a picture outside the church and probably to get a couple of brochures as a souvenir. So I walked inside the Cenacolo Vinciano office and looked around. There was an Italian woman in her early twenties sitting beside the desk who asked me in heavily accented English how she could help me. I said that I was just looking and that I knew I couldn't see the fresco but could she give me any brochures. Instead of receiving a couple of glossy pamphlets, she told me "We have one cancellation if you want to see the Il Cenacolo." I blinked at her, unsure of what I just heard. I asked her to repeat herself and she confirmed that there is one spot open after about 20 minutes, if I'd like to take that. The schedule would be perfect and would give me enough time to get back to Milan Centrale to catch my train to Modena. I said yes, still waiting for her to tell me there has been some mistake, but she handed me my ticket and said "That will be a 6 euro and a fifty. Do you have a six euro and a fifty?" Why yes, kind miss, even with my impoverished, dazed, gaping countenance, I do have a six euro and a fifty. I handed her the money, grabbed the ticket, stepped out and sat down on a bench. I stared at the ticket with disbelieving eyes. I remembered that thing I read on the internet, about getting a walk-in ticket to see the Il Cenacolo and what that amounts to: a miracle.

From The Silken Backpack

Santa Maria delle Grazie and the Cenacolo office

I stayed in that bench until my viewing schedule, afraid that to go anywhere would make this dream go away. But it didn't go away, I joined my tour group as we went into Santa Maria delle Grazie, through the cordoned areas, through the convent and into the room where the most famous fresco in the world was waiting. We were told that we would be given 15 minutes to view The Last Supper and because the fresco was very old and was indeed almost fading, we cannot take pictures of it, we nodded like robots and were finally shown into the room.

The room was a rectangular space with 2 frescos on opposite walls. The other fresco I didn't give due justice to coz I was just staring at The Last Supper the whole time. I could hear the dehumidifier buzzing in the background but I didn't mind, being in that place, looking at what I was looking at made me feel very serene, almost reverent. It was without a doubt, one of the most surreal experiences of my entire life. I couldn't believe that I was there, looking at one of the most important pieces of art in the world, that not even a lot of people could see (check the waiting list people)! Weren't I just a girl from a developing country, who only dreamed of going to these kinds of places, seeing these kinds of things? How could I be there at that moment? What have I done to deserve this? Really? Did I save a small country in my past life?! A tide of gratitude washed over me, wave upon wave, till I was almost sure I was gonna cry. It was true what I read on the forum, what happened to me that day at the il cenacolo was a miracle.

From The Silken Backpack

The only thing we're allowed to take a photo of is this replica of the Il Cenacolo

After my viewing, I took the subway to Milan Centrale, retrieved my luggage, called my aunt once again and took my train to Modena. I was tired but I was happy, the kind of happiness that seeps into the pores, permeates the heart and washes the entire being with a radiance that drove poets to compare smiles to sunshines.
And to think, that was just day 1.

before I could say "Buon Giorno Italia!"...

I'd like to think my trip to Italy was relatively well-thought of. I spent a great deal of time planted in front of the computer mapping out my trip to the very last detail. I have every single transportation option from point A to point B memorized and i have the address, contacts and rates of a couple of cheap, decent, centrally-located hostels written down in my notebook, all ready for the moment I find myself stranded in some Italian corner.


My plan for the trip was simple. I had seven days and a whole lot of Italia to see. I was to arrive in Milan (courtesy of my dirt-cheap 60 euro round trip Ryan Air ticket) really early on my first day, see Milan for the whole day, take the train to Modena, meet my aunt and stay with her family for the night, go to Venice the next day, figure out where to spend the night, go to Firenze the next day, figure out what to do, go to Pisa the next day, once again, figure out what to do, go see the Tuscan country-side the day after that (I was thinking along the lines of the film setting of "Under the Tuscan Sun") figure out where to spend the night, then go to Rome, spend about two days there and fly back to Paris. Voila! Seven days! Oh, and I had only about 200 euros on me to do all these and I had no credit card. I have no idea what I was thinking then.


But I was 23 years old and I didn't give a damn. I was at that ridiculously optimistic stage in my life where I thought that if I could imagine it, how could it not happen?


So the day before my Italy trip I went and took the Metropolitain to Paris-Porte Maillot, where the buses going to Beauvais airport depart. I had a pre-dawn flight to Milan the next day and figuring where the hell in Porte-Maillot the bus terminal is in that ungodly hour does not fit into my beautiful plans. So I went around Porte-Maillot and found the terminal (which is nothing more than a parking lot on Boulevard Pershing). I read on the internet that i must take the bus that leaves 3 1/2 hours before my flight, so needless to say, I had to leave Ninon's apartment very VERY early.

From The Silken Backpack

The Porte Maillot Metropolitain Station


So the next day, remembering Ninon's instructions on how to get to the stop of the Night Bus going to Porte-Maillot (that was bus N151 and N153), I set off to the streets of Paris at 3 in the bloody morning (and this is not even the posh 24/7 safe side of Paris, this was in Anvers, right smack in between the sexodrome-lined streets of Pigalle and the immigrant-populated neighborhoods of Barbes, right under the nose of the colorful hill of Montmarte). I can't remember walking more briskly in my life. I put my game-face on (which is basically my "I'm a murderous Asian girl, don't you dare mess with me" face) and headed off in the direction of Gare Saint-Lazare (which just sounded to me like Gare Salazar). Only problem was, the wheels of my luggage collided heavily with the rough cobble-stoned side walks of Paris and I left behind this KATAK-KATAK-KATAK sound in my wake that just reverberated off the centuries-old buildings that were clearly not built with the word "sound-proof" in mind. I was now afraid of having people heaving bulky items at me from their apartment windows for waking them from their sleep.


I finally got to Gare Saint-Lazare but soon as I saw the bus stops, I knew I was screwed. There were just too many bus stops and I was stumped. I knew exactly the bus number I had to be on but I had no idea which bus stop it passes by. I had less than 10 minutes before the bus I was supposed to take leaves and I walked frantically back and forth, checking the signs on each stop. I loudly cursed myself for being idiotic enough to not check this before hand. Why the hell did I take the Metropolitain the day before when I knew full well I was going to take the bus?! Suddenly I saw the bus I was supposed to take pass me. I whipped around and ran after the bus, willing it to pause by the next bus stops. But it didn't. It kept on going and going and poof! It was gone. Curses in about 5 different languages flew out of me before I calmed myself down to consider my options. The next bus was gonna come in about 20 minutes, but by then I would arrive in Porte-Maillot in less than the 3 1/2 hours required time pre-flight. I finally decided to just take a cab, figuring I would end up wasting more money if i miss the flight altogether than if i pay the exorbitant Parisian cab-fare.


So I hailed a cab, my first in Paris, and told the driver in my best imitation of a French accent "Pohr Mahlloh, seel vu pleh" Miraculously, the driver nodded and off we went. But of course, that was too easy! What the hell? So ever the ridiculous worrier, I decided not to take the chance of ending up in some street called "Pohlloloh" or some thing, I wrote my destination down and showed it to the driver. He nodded "Oui, oui!" and smiled. Hah! Stupid Tourist! Bleh!
I ended up paying 7 euros for the cab, when I could have just paid less than one for the bus, but it became worth it the moment we passed by Champs Elysees. I've never seen the avenue at dawn, when it was not quite so infested with gawking tourists and Parisians who hated the gawking tourists. The entire avenue was bright with the thousands of lights hanging off the countless trees lining the long street. The Arc de Triomphe looked magnificent and it just took my breath away. It was at this moment that I felt what it was like to be in Paris (since my EQ-deficient self has been missing it the past 3 weeks).


In no time at all, we arrived in Porte Maillot, I tore down the parking lot, hoping to catch the bus when I was met with a long line, apparently, the bus was going to be delayed for almost 40 minutes but it's no problem because the people at the airport knew and we would still be able to catch all our flights. I felt like a balloon being deflated. Damn it! I could have just taken the next bus from Gare du Nord! Now, I am officially down to 193 euros. Shiiittttt....


But no use crying over spilled latte, so I just stayed in line, shifted in the January cold, smoked more cigarettes than i dare count and finally got on the bus, handed over my 14 euros and settled in for my trip to Beauvais.

From The Silken Backpack

The Paris Beauvais Airport

I got to the airport in no time flat and I got myself buckled down onto my plane seat with no incident. I took a moment to remind myself of where I was, where I was going and all that implied. I was going to ITALY Baby!

P.S. Because I was going through this in a mad rush, I wasn't able to take proper photos. The photos in this entry all came from the net. Apologies... Forgiveness

Learning about the Atomic Bomb in Hiroshima

After waking up to a slightly chilly morning in the Hiroshima Youth Hostel, we all decided to go around the city, so we got ready and stepped out into the drizzling city. We walked to the corner convenie and bought some breakfast. After having some quick bites in front of the convenie, we went to the bus stop to catch one going to Hiroshima Bus Center. When we got there it was still raining like crazy and the skies were gray. We decided to walk towards the A-dome which was across the Peace Memorial Musuem.

The A-dome is the only distinguishable structure left after the bombing. We spent some moments there and took photos and reflected a bit on the effects of the atomic bomb on thousands of people. The area and the park was quite beautiful. The city is very clean and has a charming look about it.There was a river which conspicuously seems to me to be sea water of some sort coz it smelled that way. If it wasnt raining I’m sure we would have taken a leisurely walk along the park.

From The Silken Backpack

The A-Dome amidst purple flowers


After taking some photos of the A-dome, we passed by several memorials (statues and monuments) to children who died during the bombing. Among these memorials is the one for Sadako (Dont think Ringu) the girl who was exposed to radiation from the bomb when she was only 2 years old. She grew up to be a relatively healthy girl but when she was 10, she developed lumps around her neck and she was diagnosed with leukemia and given about 6 months to a years time to live. While in the hospital, she saw a girl folding paper cranes. Inspired by this, she decided to make 1000 paper cranes (In Japanese culture, if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you can make a wish and it will come true). Then, origami paper was quite expensive and so she would use anything she can fold to make the cranes. She died before she could finish the cranes, her friends and family finished the 1000 cranes and they were buried with Sadako.

From The Silken Backpack

One of the shrines, the A-dome by the river side, the Atomic Bomb Museum and the Flame Monument

In the monument for Sadako, (there she was on the top of the monument holding a huge metal origami crane over her head as if she’s going to set it off flying into the air ) are plastic cases similar to phone booths where thousands of paper cranes strung through cotton strings were hung on display. These cranes came from all over the world as a message of peace. It was truly poignant and makes you realize how much suffering opens the eyes and minds of people and how a period of dehumanization gives birth to an era where individuals are more aware of their humanity and the increase of the desire to preserve that humanity.

Sometimes it amazes me how people are just so touched by a child’s knowledge of peace and love. They always imagine that this shouldn't be so. A child should be innocent, unexposed to the ways of the world. I find this funny because peace and love are the most basic and elementary of human emotions. Why is it that a child can trust and love so easily? It's because the child has found no reason to do anything other than that. Thus a child will always find in herself the desire for peace and love. I find greater merit in someone who has seen the evils of the world and yet found the strength in herself to see the goodness and beauty around her and to still love. This is why Sadako is remembered so fondly, I think, because she has seen the horror of the aftermath of the bomb and still she’s able to imagine a world of peace and brotherhood.

From The Silken Backpack

Viviane and the monument for Sadako

After the monuments, we decided to go see the Hiroshima Peace Museum. I got in for free coz Im a foreign student. hehehe. Here we found out why the US decided to use the bomb against Japan instead of Germany (Japan was thinking of surrendering, but not to the US, they were thinking of doing it through Russia. Using the bomb on Japan will make Japan helpless and dependent on the US at the same time, it will show Russia the extent of US power and will prevent Russia from usurping them in the arms race and power struggle) We also found out how US chose 17 cities in Japan to bomb. They wanted to choose a big city that is not already heavily damaged from previous bombings (this is so that the effect of the atomic bomb can be clearly seen) and with a lot of war activites going on (production of Japanese arsenal and training of soldiers etc) They also chose a city close to the sea so that if the bomb didnt go off it would be harder for the Japanese to locate it. Finally they chose Hiroshima because it was the only city believed to not have a Allies Prisoner of War camp. (Of course, they could have opt not to use the bomb at all. but more than 2 billion dollars have been used for its research and development, and some justification was called for) Of course, all of these information are given from the Japanese perspective, I'm sure the Americans have a different story.

From The Silken Backpack

Explanations... explanations...

And so on August 6, 1945; on the condition of a clear day, the bomb was set to be dropped on the city of Hiroshima. August 6 was a clear sunny day. And so Hiroshima saw a tragedy unlike anything the world has ever seen. The museum trip was very educational although some parts of it were a bit too much, and you can really feel how much they were trying to drive the point home. They even had samples of some keloids from victims of the bombing. A whole slab of stone was in the museum, where a woman was sitting when the bomb went off. The stone became white because of the heat while the burned body of the woman left a black imprint on the stone making it into a shadow.

From The Silken Backpack

Watch where the hands stopped at the time of the bombing

Sophie was done with the museum first and after a few minutes I joined her at the exit. We waited for about 2 1/2 hours until Katya and Viviane and Ewa were done. They practically set camp in that museum I swear. Afterwards we decided to go look for something to eat, we were looking for a Yoshinoya and after walking past the flame monument where the fire was kept burning until the last Atomic bomb was destroyed, we left the museum area and went to the city. After a while, we found a Yoshinoya. After eating we decided to go around the shopping area for a bit. After a while we got tired and decided to go to Tully’s Cafe. After some cappucinos, fruit drinks and hot cocoa, we decided to got o the Hiroshima Castle.

From The Silken Backpack

Sad Viviane in the museum, Hiroshima City and Hiroshima Castle

We walked in the rain but we got to see the outside of the castle. we didnt get to go inside because by then, it was already 8 pm and the castle was closed. We just took a few photos and decided to go straight home. By this time, we’ve decided to leave the next day for Shikoku instead of spending another day in Hiroshima. The next day is another adventure unto itself.

From The Silken Backpack

The Miyajima-Hiroshima Crew

Starting off with an Injury and an Encounter with one of the 3 Most Beautiful Views of Japan

May of 2005, I went for a crazy week of backpacking all over West Honshu and across Shikoku (Ok, review: Japan has 4 main islands, the biggest is Honshu followed by Hokkaido then Kyushu and the smallest Shikoku). That week was one of the most important weeks for a working Japanese, the Golden Week. Its the whole week of holiday when everybody packs up their stuff and go somewhere to remind themselves that their lives are not wholly constituted of work and ippai man en. Naturally this is also the time when all forms of transportation and accomodation raise their prices to the roof.

Knowing these, the gang decided to go the cheapest way, meaning go at the end of Golden Week.

So May 4, 2005, Sophie and I asked Mam Pia if we could sleep over at her house since its closer to Kita Senri eki and we had our bus to Hiroshima at 7:30 in the freaking morning. So we slept over at her house with the intention of waking up at 5 in the morning.

May 5, Intention realized. We woke up at 5 am and got ready to walk to Kita Senri. On the way to the station, we had to cut through a park and while going down the dirt and wood staircase I tripped and I swear I heard a crack. A pain shot up my ankle and I thought I broke my ruddy foot I got soo dizzy and I thought I was gonna faint. Sophie kinda freaked out and told me to snap out of it, get up and eat bread all at the same time. I felt better and I realized I could move my foot only it really hurts, I was able to walk anyway so even if it hurts I just thought "spiritual sacrifice" and we ventured on. We took the train to Osaka Umeda and found the bus station in good time. The bus was a cool double decker and we sat on the upper deck and I got the window seat so I had a pretty good time. We arrived in Hiroshima station 5 hours later and met up with Viviane, Ewa and Katya.

The plan of the day was to go to Miyajima (Miyajima is an island off Hiroshima, a meager 10 minute ferry boat ride) Miyajima’s main feature is the floating torii and Itsukushima Shrine. This is one of the 3 most beautiful places in all of Japan. The torii (Red Shinto gate) and the shrine is built on the shore, so at low tide you can walk up to the torii and touch it or put coins in between the small barnacles that had formed on the legs of the torii. But at hightide, the water comes in and covers a portion of the legs and so it appears that the torii is floating on water. It’s really very pretty.

From The Silken Backpack

Coins in the barnacles

After we all met in Hiroshima station, we put our luggages in the coin lockers and took a train to Miyajima guchi where the port and the ferries going to Miyajima are. We took the ferry and arrived in Miyajima at low tide so we were able to go and touch the torii (its supposed to bring you luck)

From The Silken Backpack

People digging in the beach, the torii at low tide, more coins and shrine on legs

Miyajima is also famous for all the deers that roam freely around the area, which also means that people have to be careful not to step on deer dung. We walked along side the deers and had one of them try to steal Ewa’s bag.

From The Silken Backpack

The culprit

We were walking along the beach and saw all these people curiously digging into the sand for I dont know what. We bought tickets to get into the shrine and we spent the time walking around it. It was a regular shrine except it s partly built on stilt-like trunks coz at high tide, water would also come up to about 5 to 10 inches below the floor.

Sophie was on a mission. She wanted to go up as many mountains in Japan as she can, sooo… we went up Mt. Misen. This is a mountain about an hour or 2 hike up where the top provides an excellent 360 degrees view of Miyajima island and a part of Hiroshima. Because of my ankle, the climb up was H-E-L-L. But after a few struggles we were getting close to the top.

We passed by a small temple where there was a fire caused by boiling water (One of the temple’s features was a water vat where the water is said to have been kept simmering for almost a hundred years). Sadly the water boiled over and caused the fire. When we got there all we saw were charred wood and a lot of firemen and TV crews. It was sad we didnt even get to see it before it got burned, but of course, what's sadder was that it burned at all.

From The Silken Backpack

Remains of the temple's water vat and the fire men

We passed the temple and continued our hike up the mountain until finally we reached the top (we were by this time clutching walking sticks like Gandalf) the top is just a few huge rocks and a small 2-story viewing structure from where you can see the whole island. The view was breath taking and we took quite a lot of photos and took a rest. (The price of water in the small store here is outrageously expensive) After a while we decided to get down the mountain as it was already getting dark.
If going up was hell for me, going down was even worse. I had to take the cable car to get down the mountain, and from there we took the bus to go back to the shrine and the torii.

From The Silken Backpack

Views from the top, Viviane the mountain lady and blessed cable cars

This time the tide has come in and the floating torii and shrine were really very beautiful and a sight to behold. It truly is one of the most beautiful places in Japan that Ive seen.

From The Silken Backpack

The shrine at high tide

From The Silken Backpack

The floating Torii

Frolicking in one of Japan’s Ghost Islands – Takashima

We boarded a high-speed ferry called "Kubarutokuin" from Nagasaki port to Takashima island, the one way ticket cost us 990 yen. The ferry ride was rather pleasant, the waters were cobalt blue and we passed by a number of stark white bridges that bounded effortlessly over the shimmering waters. In less than 40 minutes we arrived in Takashima port.

From The Silken Backpack

bridges along the way from Nagasaki to Takashima

Our first impression of the island was simple, we thought it was quiet, almost to the point of "too quiet". We walked a bit off the port and came upon the Fureai Camping Ground. It was an absolute haven for us. The camping ground we found in Kagoshima was ok, but that was just an expanse of land where we could "legitimately" set camp. But this camping ground was modern in comparison. There was a building with showers and vending machines inside and outside a row of neatly constructed tents made of sturdy vinyl awaited eager campers. Since we had our own tent, we ended up just paying 600 yen per night for the management and the rental fee. Each tent cost about 1,500 per nights rental.

From The Silken Backpack

Scenes in the Umibozou in Takashima artificial beach

The camping ground was annexed to the Umibouz in Takashima. This is a man-made beach that stretched for just about a kilometer. Breakwaters surrounded the beach in a crescent shape, barring it from the open sea beyond. It had cream colored sand of roughly ground shells and the water was pretty clear. A couple of floating platforms bounced off in the distance and some swimmers were lying down on them to soak up the sun. Beach umbrellas and plastic lounge chairs lined the boardwalk that is separated from the beach itself by several wide steps of brick. It strangely resembled a beach facility one would find at the back of a beach resort, unnatural but required for commercial purposes.

From The Silken Backpack

The Fureai Camping Ground

We set camp at the end of the row of tents, right underneath a tree. It was real nice, a lovely spot for a tent, a stone's throw away from the beach. It did seem as if Asen has found the vacation he was looking for. We didn't waste any time, we went straight for the beach, lounged around and assumed the role of the lazy and self-indulgent travelers.

The next day we decided to explore the island a little bit, we rented some bikes and literally covered the whole island on bicycle. As we went up and down the hills, veered off the main highways to go through the little streets, I started to get a bit worried. We passed by whole developments, houses, buildings, stores and parks, but there was no one there and I mean NO ONE. The center of the island was completely deserted. If all we found were acres upon acres of land and forest, it wouldn't have been so creepy, but there were buildings and facilities meant for residents but there was nobody. It was a real ghost town.

From The Silken Backpack

Off to discover on bike, compacted aluminum cans for recycling, mini marina and deserted apartment buildings

What we didn't know at this time was that Takashima Island was actually amongst the 3 Ghost Islands of Southern Kyushu. These islands were Takashima, Hashima and Sakito (Hashima, also known as Battleship Island, is still uninhabited although a small portion of it was re-opened to the public on April 22, 2009 after 20 years of closure). They were called Ghost Islands because it was said that anyone who set foot on them are unlikely to come back alive.

The history of these islands go back to the early 1900s when Korea was forcefully annexed to Japan. During this time coal was the main source of fuel and these 3 islands were chock-full of them. A great number of Koreans, around 10,000 in total, were conscripted to work the coal mines and were subjected to harsh labor, living conditions and the occassional (or frequent, who knows?) beatings, a number of them died from the work and from malnutrion. It is said that even the most experienced coalminers who have worked in the largest coalfields in Kyushu, in the Chikuho area, were afraid of going to the Ghost Islands.

The Mitsubishi Corporation took over the management of the coal mines of the Ghost Islands and due to the burgeoning importance of the islands' coal mines, housing developments were built to accommodate the expected increase in population in the islands especially during the latter part of the war. However, in the 1960s petroleum overtook coal and one by one the coal mines closed down, and the only industry that supported the islands was obliterated. The nearby Hashima Island which was almost completely covered in concrete apartment blocks closed down its mining operation in 1974 and all residents left the island until all that was left was the derelict buildings and a silence that is broken only by the fishermen that can only come as close as the seawalls. Up until the date it re-opened to the public in 2009, only one recorded landing in August 2005 was made and only journalists were allowed on Hashima Island.

Takashima Island, on the other hand, became the focal-point of a tourism revival plan. Hotels, golf courses and other facilities (including the Umibouzu) were built on the island to lure holiday makers. But the plan failed miserably and soon, the tourism facilities closed down and fell into disrepair. Up to this day, these 3 islands still serves as a painful reminder to the Koreans of what they had to suffer under the hands of the Japan Empire.

From The Silken Backpack

The battleship-shaped island of Hashima with it's silhouette of huge concrete apartment blocks

When we got back to the main high way, we came upon a really pretty windmill atop a hill and we stopped by here to take pictures. Here we got views of the deserted apartment buildings and Hashima Island. Going down we came upon piles of recyclable waste that was just interesting to us so of course, a couple of photos were taken. We passed by the small marina for the fishing boats, once more, it was pretty deserted, save for a couple of old men working their nets. We soon came upon the Tobishima Fishing Park, which was basically a bridge connecting the main island to a small, uninhabited island that didn't look interesting at all. It was supposed to be packed with tourists during the summer, but it was already August when we were there, the height of summer, but there was no one in sight... creepy.

From The Silken Backpack

Windmills, highways and coastlines

Off the Tobishima Fishing Park was Umibozou so were right back where we started. It was really astonishing, how small the island was, so we were once again faced with no other activity aside from lounging, swimming, eating and getting tanned. We spent the whole day in leisure and in the evening we went to the public bath house (where I saw the sorriest looking naked old lady with skin hanging off her bones like melting wax to a candle) and barbequed the produce we bought from a store during our biking expedition for dinner.

From The Silken Backpack

Our tent under the tree, dinner on the grill and killing time in the tent

The next day we decided to go back to Nagasaki and from Nagasaki we took the train back to Fukuoka and from Fukuoka boarded the overnight train back to Osaka. It was only 2 days from then before we would go to the airport, get on 2 different planes, one bound for Paris, another for Manila, and say good bye to a fantastic year of learning, adventures and friendships. And although I could feel the sadness creeping up on me like a thief in the night, I could only be grateful for a week of ridiculous fun that is nothing, if not the best ending to a story that I could have ever and indeed, never dared hope for.

From The Silken Backpack

On the way back

Defamation of National Treasures for Breakfast in Nagasaki

I remember waking up that morning with the heavy smell of synthetic fabric filling my nostrils. When my eyes opened I saw that I was within kissing distance of the walls of our tent.

In our haste to find a place to set up tent the night before and realizing that the entire down town of Nagasaki was a sprawling concrete jungle (or jungle floor since there were really no skyscrapers in Nagasaki), we ended up building our tent on the only piece of soil we could find. The Nagasaki Peace Park.

Ok, so we didn’t really build a tent in the middle of the park (which is on the top of a little hill), it was more of to the side of the park where the edge slopes down into a wall that separates the elevated park from the sidewalk below. It was really a bit dangerous since we could have slid down into the sidewalk during the night, and the height of the fall would have left us with a spattering of bruises. Luckily, a couple of pine trees were planted on the ground and kept us anchored on that slope. But we still had to suffer through a night sleeping at an angle, it felt like the world was without gravity and everything was slanted to the right. It was no wonder that I woke up with my face almost plastered on the tent wall. I should actually count myself lucky that I wasn’t crushed by Ninon and Asen in their sleep, although, they were both dangerously close to me as we huddled to the lower side of the tent.

Now, I’ve never actually slept in a park before, but something tells me that stands on the fine fine line between the Legal and Illegal columns in the “homeless activities” category and I’m not all that sure if my “don’t blame me, I’m a stupid foreigner” looks will get us out of trouble this time (It’s the bloody Nagasaki Peace Park! It’s almost like a National Treasure for the Japanese!). So as soon as I got my bearings, I woke Ninon and Asen up and demanded that we clean up the tent, erase all evidence of our slumber and act like we just got there.

In about 15 minutes, we had the tent rolled up and we had a lot of our stuff sprawled on the park bench while the three of us took turns washing our faces and brushing our teeth in the female public restroom (the male restroom was locked). Suddenly, to my horror, a team of park cleaners arrived. They were terrifying to me at that moment. Old Japanese men and women, each one at least 60 years old, holding onto long-handled brooms, dust pans, rags and pails of water, were walking side-by-side like contestants in Fear Factor. I watched them coming closer and I could just imagine what would have happened if they arrived 5-10 minutes earlier when we were just tearing down the tent.

From The Silken Backpack

The infamous restroom

Images of a 70 year-old Obaasan after me with a broom flashed through my mind, followed by another of the three of us posing for a Japanese Mug Shot, followed yet again by a news article in the local papers with the caption “French, Bulgarian and Philippine National Caught Defaming Japanese Monument to History” in bold letters above my battered and raccoon-eyed mug shot. I will be deported back to the Philippines, but out of shame, my country and my family will disown me and I will be left to wander the streets of Manila. The despair will lead me to contemplate suicide and right before I jump off the Guadalupe Bridge into the Pasig river, my last thought would be “I should have just spent 2,000 pesos on a blasted hostel.”

Pathetic.

Ok, back to reality. I eyed the cleaning team warily but smiled sweetly and innocently when they looked at us, curiosity evident in their glances. I thanked my God silently for the impeccable timing as we nonchalantly went on fixing our things at an amazing speed.

Finally, with our backpacks still on a bench well within our line of sight, we went around the Nagasaki Peace Park. It was our first time to see it in broad daylight, and just like any other normal park, it had clean landscaping and a fair number of benches. But what sets this museum apart from all others is nothing short of astounding.

At 11:02 am on August 9, 1945, the second atomic bomb in world history exploded 500 meters above this seemingly insignificant park. This bomb, dubbed “Fat Boy” after England’s Winston Churchill, contained plutonium, a radioactive material stronger than the uranium inside the atomic bomb of Hiroshima. In an instant, most of Nagasaki was flattened, the damage of which lasted through days, months, years and generations.

From The Silken Backpack

Sculptures and remains of the bombing in the Nagasaki Peace Park

Around the park, reminders of the world’s desire to prevent such devastation from happening again could be seen. Statues and monuments given by different nations, from Bulgaria to China, dotted the landscape of the park. Each work of art depicted peace and how important it is for the world’s present and future.

From The Silken Backpack

Fountain of Peace and Paper Cranes in Nagasaki Peace Park

At one end of the park stood the bluish 10-meter Peace Statue created by sculptor Seibou Kitamura. The statue was of a man sitting with one leg folded inwards and the other leg folded down with the foot on the ground. The folded-in leg represented meditation (Buddhist monks sit cross-legged when meditating) while the other signified man’s initiative to stand up in defense of peace and the people of the world. The statue’s arms formed a right angle with the left arm stretched parallel to the ground and the other arm raised up with a finger pointing into the sky. The left arm signified eternal peace while the right arm pointing to the sky symbolized atomic bombs.

From The Silken Backpack

At the other end of the park was another statue, this time of a woman holding a child, with the numbers 1945 8.9 11:02 written on the base, commemorating the date and time when the atomic bomb went off in Nagasaki. The park offered an outstanding combination of sadness and hope as it featured remains of the tragedy of Nagasaki while gracefully reminding everyone that the lesson behind this unfortunate event is to ensure that it never happens again.

From The Silken Backpack

After we were done going around the park, we headed to the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum, which was pretty decent but had nothing on the museum in Hiroshima, so we just went through it quickly (We only paid 200 yen so it wasn’t a big loss)

We were pretty much running out of time and Asen was still without his “Lazing on the Beach like a Bum Moment”. So after doing a bit of research, we found out that there were a couple of islands close to Nagasaki where we can just wind down, hang around and enjoy the sea. We ended up choosing Takashima, boasted in a couple of brochures from the Tourism Office, as THE tourist-y place to go to (plus, it says that there was a “camping ground” in the island, which would be a refreshing change from our usual practice of just setting camp wherever).

From The Silken Backpack

I decided to give up on my initial plans to go around Nagasaki more to see the Dutch Colonial buildings and gardens (my tall friends weren’t so interested in it coz well, why would they want to see european-inspired architecture, they’re already from Europe!), and trooped with Ninon and Asen to the port, bought tickets to Takashima, and we were on our way!

The Green Green Grass of Aso

Dawn was barely breaking when we woke up under the protection of the lone electric light post that served as our bedroom chandelier for that night. As has become characteristic of our mornings since the great kyushu trip began, we started the day off with a mad dash to roll up the tent, erase all evidence of our presence and look for the nearest restroom where we can freshen up and greet the new day with a semi-presentable face.

That refuge came in the form of the ferry terminal restroom. We washed our faces, brushed our teeth and got out just as the sun has broken through the evening clouds. We bought our ferry tickets and in minutes we were in the ferry, waving our good byes at the majestic silhouette of Mt. Sakurajima in the distance. After about 15 minutes, we arrived in Kagoshima port and we decided to set our plans for that day in motion.

We jumped on a train bound for the green, green grass of the mountains of Aso. Unbeknownst to me at that point, Mount Aso is actually the largest active volcano in Japan and is one of the largest in the world. It has a caldera with a circumference of around 120 kms give or take.

We arrived in Aso Ekimae station and from there, we took a bus going to Asosan Nishi Eki. I had my nose pressed against the window the whole way as I watched the landscape outside change into one of bright, endless green. It was as if we were devoured by a green monster, the inside of which was made of swaying stalks of brilliant green dancing in the invisible wind. It's either that or we were in New Zealand.

From The Silken Backpack

A view of Mt. Nakadake from Kusasenri, bugs and mushrooms in Aso

We walked out towards Kusa Senri (One thousand grass), a vast expanse of green grassy plains with 2 small pools of water side by side, divided by an elevated piece of land. Here, more than a couple of creamy suede-colored cows lazed around. In the distance we could see the smoking peak of Mt. Aso.

The smoking volcano is the crater of Mt. Nakadake, one of the five mountains that comprise the central cone group of Aso. This includes Mt. Neko, Mt. Eboshi, Mt. Kishima and the tallest one, standing at 1,592 m above sea level, Mt. Taka.

From The Silken Backpack

The Kyushu Backpackers, scenes from Aso

We didn't do much here except walk around. We literally walked like pilgrims, or even more. We walked around Kusasenri, then we walked out to the road, walked further until we took a narrow pathway that went up the mountains. We climbed high enough until we got a beautiful view of the caldera. We could see Kusa senri and marveled at how it looked like a face from way up, with the two pools as eyes and the elevated land as the nose.

From The Silken Backpack

Climbing up the mountains of Mt. Aso

From this point, we also saw the hill called Komezuka, named because of its uncanny resemblance to a cup of rice. The view from here was magnificent, swaying green grass as far as the eyes could see. It was incredibly relaxing to stay there on that cloudy day and feel the wind on our face, in my opinion, it was the closest thing to freedom translated to an emotion that I have ever felt in my life. We had a clear view of the smoke-spewing Mt. Nakadake and we decided to head towards it.

From The Silken Backpack

Ninon climbing up, the face-like layout of Kusasenri and Komezuka hill

We walked down the mountain and walked along the side of the main road on the way to Mt Nakadake, stopping every now and then since the distance was farther than we thought. We kept on walking until the scenery changed from the savannah-looking emerald green to the black-streaked, other-worldly landscape of the sulphuric peak of Mt. Nakadake.

From The Silken Backpack

The changing scenery as we came closer to Mt. Nakadake

There was a path winding it's way around the huge crater and several viewing points. We stopped by occassionally to take pictures. There were signs that said the sulphur in the smoke may be dangerous and if the volcano spews out too much then all visitors must vacate the area immediately. It was really exciting. We saw the bottom of the crater where the smoke was coming from and of course, pictures were duly taken.

From The Silken Backpack

The space rocks in Mt. Nakadake, the smoking crater, the pathway around the crater

After practically walking the entire length of the path, we started our way back to the train station. We walked such a long distance that we were completely tired out. Finally we reached the quaint train station of Aso that looked like it came straight out of a european countryside just in time to see the black steam locomotive, Aso Boy train pull out. We waited for our next train and got on, surprised to find that even though the sky was cloudy, we were incredibly sunburned.

From The Silken Backpack

The charming Aso station, Lazy cows, the smoking volcano, shrines by the road side

We slept through most of the train trip going to Kumamoto port. It was from here that we were gonna get on the ferry headed towards Shimabara Port in Nagasaki for yet another day in the Kyushu adventure.

Lava Rocks, Yellow Lakes and Dead Jellyfish in Sakurajima

Kyushu Backpacking Trip Day 4 - Summer of 2005

Day 4 into the great Kyushu adventure and we were packing again. Mt. Kaimon was not what Asen envisioned it to be. Before deciding on the Kaimon Sanroku Fureai Kouen, Asen had the brilliant idea of checking it out on a map of Kyushu. What he saw, he liked immensely. The mountain was nestled right next to the coastline and the camping ground was a dot surreptitiously close to the sea, giving the impression that the park was all but kissing distance from the beach. But of course, what we found was a different story.

Asen did not appreciate the complete lack of a beach in the area and even before we got back from climbing Mt. Kaimon the afternoon before, he was ready to yell bolt!

So we packed our bags yet again and headed out to our next destination: Sakurajima (Sakura Island).

Sakurajima was one of my firm demands. It was written in the guidebook as one of Japan’s (and the world’s) most active volcanoes. It boasts of a massive eruption in 1914, from which a peninsula was formed (thus Sakurajima is technically not an island anymore) and a field of lava rocks spread out from the foot of the volcano. I don’t know why I was so fixated with volcanoes, but I was. Asen agreed to go to Sakurajima, because, once again, after checking his trusty map, he found a lake close to the volcano and figured that was as good a place as any to go swimming.

From The Silken Backpack

Mt. Sakurajima seen from the ferry


We took a train again to get to Kagoshima and from there we went to the ferry terminal to board our boat which took us to Sakurajima island in less than 20 minutes. It was a fairly uneventful trip, but we found that the Lava Beach Esplanade (Taisho Lava Field) was very close to the station.

From The Silken Backpack

The Taisho Lava Field

This beach has one of the largest fields of lava rocks from the 1914 eruption of Mt. Sakurajima. We walked all over the brick road and I marveled at the lava rocks.

From The Silken Backpack

The Wizard of Oz-ish brick road of the Lava Beach Esplanade

The rocks themselves didn’t look all that strange. It had the color and texture of dark gray cement slathered on random places and spiked with a fork , creating an uneven surface and sharp edges. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed in it as I fully expected to see specimens that reminds of moon rocks. I was prepared to steal a lump, bring it home, and have a good time fooling everyone into believing that they were “alien” rocks.

From The Silken Backpack

Lava rocks Astonish-fail!

The Lava Beach Esplanade was interesting but it didn’t keep us enamoured for long. Asen’s desire for a swim overpowered his interest in rocks, so we took a bus to get to the “beach” along Sakurajima lake. The beach was once again, a disappointment. It was a moderate stretch of small river stones fronting a strange, milky lake. I was very suspicious of the water and refused to even so much as dip a toe in it’s murky depths. To make matters worse, it started to drizzle and it didn’t really look like the best time to go for a dip. But Asen’s mind was made up, he was going to get his swim! I watched from the shore as Asen and Ninon stripped to their underwear and went off running into the water.

From The Silken Backpack

The very suspicious looking lake

I stared at the Sakurajima volcano looming at a distance from the “beach”. I could smell something acrid in the air, and I started to imagine that the volcano was going to choose that moment to make an appearance again. I fancied that the rumbling magma underneath the earth was just waiting for our arrival to spout forth in a cataclysmic display of flame and spit. I decided the best way to find out if we were in mortal danger or not is to check the temperature of the water.

Gingerly, I walked to the edge of the water and put in my toe. It felt cool, just normal for a gloomy summer day. Mentally, I scrapped the possibility of an eruption. I was just about to return to the safety of 20 yards from the yellowish water when I saw something clear and gelatinous floating not far from me. I walked over and found a huge jellyfish floating… DEAD!

I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was my first time to see a real jelly fish in my life! And one that big! I ran off to grab a long twig from the beach, came back and started picking at the thing until I was able to puncture it with the twig and pulled it out of the water. The thing was hard but jiggly, and it was huge, like a double-D silicone breast implant! It was definitely bigger than the palm of my hand stretched out. I dropped the thing on the beach and continued prodding at it with the twig. I figured there must be more from where that came from, so I went back to the water in search for more dead jellyfish! And boy! I found about 10 of them! I grabbed each one and placed them on the pile of dead jellyfish that I made on the beach. I was starting to get alarmed. What the hell was in that water that killed off all these jellyfishes? Suddenly, I remembered that my friends were there, swimming in that Jellyfish-killing fluid!

I ran to the edge of the water and started screaming at Asen and Ninon to get the hell out of the water. They didn’t know what the hell I was yelling about but I just kept on shouting “Get your asses out of there!”

Ninon was looking at me, waving back and forth to let me know that they were doing fine, but I was having none of it. No amount of swimming was going to be worth something dreadful that was just waiting to happen in those waters. I could feel my face growing warm in irritation and I yelled at them once again to get out of the water. Finally they could see that I was seriously getting agitated. They reluctantly got out of the lake and I pulled them over to the pile of dead jellyfish that I had on the beach.

From The Silken Backpack

Grave of the Jellyfish.. eeuuwww!!!

I'm sure I acted like a kid unveiling a science project as I made them look at the pile on the stones and all but said "Voila!" in my eagerness to show them the reason behind my panic. They stared back at me and said "Well, Di, jellyfish die too."

I stared back at them, unsure of what I just heard, I said, "yuh! but not in hordes they don't!" in any case, I reckon they just humoured me by drying themselves up and preparing to leave.

We took a bus to go back to civilization and found an onsen/restaurant called Sakurajima Magma Hot Springs in one of the travel brochures of Sakurajima we got from the ferry station. We made a bee-line for that onsen and paid for our bath and settled into the restaurant for a quick meal. I went to the tables to study the brochures and maps for our next pit stop as Asen and Ninon gave our orders to the lady at the counter. When they came back they were laughing so hard, I didn't know what was going on.

As it turned out, the Japanese lady at the counter who was taking our order looked at Ninon and Asen then turned to look over at me and asked "O-kodomo sama deshou ka?" roughly translated to "Is that your child?"

From The Silken Backpack

The only working o-kodomo sama in this part of Kyushu

So! There I was, a grown 22-year old woman, just breaking through the barriers of my tween years and this old Japanese lady looks at me and sums me up as an unfortunate Asian child adopted by a Caucasian couple! I couldn't believe it! I seriously didn't know whether to be flattered or offended, but it sure cracked me up.

After our dinner of Nantanmen (ramen) Ninon and I entered the ladies' bath and we saw an onsen of yellow water (we were told it contains volcanic minerals which were good for the body) I was told off at this point because apparently, the lake water wasn't dangerous, it was just full of volcanic material. I just shrugged, rolled my eyes and said it was better to be safe than sorry.
After our bath, we started thinking about where to go to set up our tent. We realized we had to take the first ferry out of Sakurajima so we could maximize our time in our next destination: Aso san in Kumamoto. And what better place is at a close proximity to the ferry station than the ferry station itself?!

From The Silken Backpack

Right under that electric light is where we built our tent for the night. Picturesque view eh?

So, we hiked back to the Ferry station and built our tent underneath an electric light right in front of the entrance. We set our alarm clock really early to ensure that we got up before the police does. We ended the day with a couple of good laughs and another night sleeping in the most random of places.