Better later than never

My trip to the Izu peninsula began with a stop in Atami. The main attraction there was the MOA Museum of Art - 25,000 square meters of floorspace carved out of a mountain overlooking the city and its blue bay. The image below looks to be more of a bunker entrance; after walking in, it takes a good five minutes to ride the escalator up to the exhibit floors. The fee was a cool 600yen for a card-carrying student combined with a discount available at the station.


Most of the works on display there are Edo-era Japanese paintings, calligraphy, or crafts. This includes 3 national treasures and many "important cultural properties" as well. An English guidebook was available, but unfortunately not much of the calligraphy was translated to English. However, one can certainly appreciate the writing style and age of the works without needing to know. My favorite of these would be the screens with softly painted deer dancing with wispy haiku lettering.

At the time I went, there also happened to be a great deal of (late 18th to early 19th) French art; some of the artists being Japanese nationals who learned the form while studying abroad. Some of the more surprising pieces to happen upon: Claude Monet's "Water Lilies" and a debatedly-Rembrandt-but-still-as-real-as-life "Self-portrait in a cap". Shocking to me because they weren't even advertised on the pamphlet! Oil on wood is just incredible when done well.

That was really all I was hoping for from Atami, so I got back on the train and followed the East coast to Jogasaki Kaigan and its oddly cute log cabin-styled station. The short walk to the coast wasn't as short as intended, but as usual, getting lost turned out to be well worth the trouble. I stopped by what appeared to be an outdoor cafe (and the only sign of life along the winding road) named "Candy". As I approached, I was invited by one of the patrons to have a seat with him if I liked. I had originally meant only to ask for some directions, but I was fatigued from being on my feet for much of the day. I asked for the iced cafe latte.

The middle-aged man had a pair of dogs accompanying him, one of which was significantly more energetic than the other. They kept on playing with one another, leaving us to talk. The guy worked as a wine commentator and had lived in France as well as Ireland and Oregon. He was able to travel around and work from his laptop, or simply from home. Soon, the owner came out with the drink and began to share with us tales of his travels to China, Tibet, and the US (best: Mississippi - worst: New York). Unlike my beret-sporting companion who had now turned back to his dogs, the owner was previously running the rat race in Tokyo as a salaryman. He and his half-Canadian wife decided to flee while they were still young and came to the Jogasaki coast to begin living their modest dream. Even if sales are "so-so", they don't regret the decision. They would ideally like to move to the US so they could have a big yard for their dogs to run around in.

Their shared affinity for pets wasn't coincidence. The entire purpose of the cafe was to have a place to walk your pets to and let them enjoy themselves while doing the same with a drink. The cafe turned out to be named after the owner's dog. As for the two belonging to the connoisseur, he explained that one of them was born with a bone problem and that it wasn't able to walk. I hadn't realized at first, but it indeed was dragging itself along to catch up with the other. The man said the original owner would have killed it had he not taken it, and that every night he would help it to grow stronger by fixing a life vest and letting it swim around in the bathtub.

It had already grown late and the retreating sun was causing the sky to dim. I told them I had to take off, but when asked where to, they didn't seem convinced that I would make it back to the train station in time if I were first going to visit the bridge on the coast. Sensing my internal struggle, the owner volunteered to drive and drop me off in the parking lot near it. I'm always pleasantly surprised at how often the Japanese - even ones you've just met - will act as if you were all part of a common team and help you out accordingly. I thanked the guy many times over and was soon gazing off into the Pacific.
More to come as time and energy permit..