Coming to Okayama
Coming to Okayama
I purchased my Shinkansen (bullet train) ticket online in advance and printed it out on the day of departure, but when I tried to enter the ticket gate, a bell rang. “Ping, ping.”
I couldn't enter the ticket gate. A station attendant approached me and checked the ticket in my hand. “Excuse me, do you have two tickets?” No, just one. “Ma’am, You haven't purchased a train ticket. There’s still time, so please go to the ticket window and purchase a ticket.” I alternated my gaze between the ticket in my hand and the station attendant, unable to move. “That fare won't get you to Okayama.” In fact, I had purchased an express ticket but not a passenger ticket. I awkwardly walked over to the vending machine and pressed the button for my destination, Okayama. I was shocked. “Wow, that's expensive!” I stood there frozen. “Oh no, I have to buy a ticket for the return trip too.”
I don't remember when was the last time I had taken the Shinkansen. I think I went to Kyoto for business, 20 years ago. Come to think of it, it's been over 40 years since I last visited Okayama. Okayama is actually my father's hometown. I have many summer memories there. When I was a child, I used to visit there every summer with my older sister. My grandfather ran a small fishing tackle shop in Okayama City. Okayama is crossed by the Yoshii River, Asahi River, and Takahashi River, and there are many irrigation canals in the city. A rich ecosystem still remains there today. Especially when it comes to fish, it’s said to be a “sanctuary for freshwater fish” with an astonishing 129 species. My grandfather used to make fishing weights by melting metal. He was also skilled at repairing and modifying fishing gear and machine parts. Customers and neighborhood children were always coming and going. I remember seeing my grandfather’s back as he polished some part of fishing gears. My aunt's family lived in the back of the main house. The entrance facing the road was the store, and behind it was my grandparents’s living room.The kitchen was at the end of the hallway, and my aunt's house was further back. My grandmother and aunt prepared meals in the same kitchen and brought them into their respective family’s dining tables. My sister and I ate at my grandparents’s low dining table. Luna, the cat, roamed freely between both houses and then left freely. She was very fond of my father.
Time passed, my grandfather passed away, and land development began in that area, with months of harassment from land developers. My grandmother grew tired of the daily knocking on the door and sold the house. At that time, I was pursuing a career in art, pouring my passion into my dreams. With the loss of that house, would the bonds it had forged also be severed?And then my grandmother passed away as well. The Okano family closed their grave in Okayama and abandoned their hometown, which their father's generation would never return to. The connection with our ancestors was severed. In Japan, “grave closure” refers to the practice of discontinuing the maintenance of family graves and transferring the remains to a communal ossuary or other alternative burial facility. This practice is becoming increasingly common due to various factors, including population decline, the decline of traditional burial practices, and the desire to avoid leaving the burden of grave maintenance to future generations. Incidentally, my father had requested in his will that his ashes be scattered in the wind near Mount Fuji, but at the request of his family, he was buried in a newly constructed grave.
The time is now May 2025, when I visited “Setouch Triennial 2025” held every three years on the islands of the Seto Inland Sea, where a large river flows through Okayama Prefecture. It took a considerable amount of time and money to reach this place. Despite it being not so far away, it feels like a distant place. Moreover, the festival is divided into three seasons—spring, summer, and fall—with a limited duration of approximately 100 days divided into three seasons, so you can’t just go on a whim. The challenge of overcoming the triangle of determination, time, and funding may be beyond the reach of ordinary people. In fact, Japan's economy has been stagnant for over 30 years due to factors such as deflation, declining birth rates, and an aging society. However, thanks to the tailwind of inbound tourism (in recent years, many tourists have been visiting Japan attracted by the yen's depreciation and different culture), this art festival is mainly attended by overseas tourists, with about 1 million people visiting from far away during this period, sparing no effort, expense, or time to aim for the summit of the triangle, achieving considerable results. The number of tourists is likely to increase even more. On the other hand, Japanese people tend to strive to improve their daily lives while calculating their future savings and insurance.
My journey is still underway to the Port of Setouchi inner sea. I made a detour in Okayama City to meet up with an old friend from Kochi whom I hadn't seen in a long time, and we went to the site of the Okano family residence in Okayama City together. I wondered if the scenery was still the same.The site had already been replaced by other buildings, but the park across the street and the irrigation canal flowing through it remained unchanged. I remembered that scenery. Together with my old friend, I walked through the summer memories of my childhood.
As we walked along the irrigation canal, a breeze blew.
Sumie-chan: “The breeze feels nice, doesn't it?”
Me: “Yes, it does feel nice.”
Me: “When I think of Okayama, I think of muscat grapes and peaches. And Momotaro, with his Kibi dumplings tied around his waist! I want to eat some.”
Sumie-chan: “When I think of Kochi, I think of bonito and Ryoma Sakamoto. Why is that?”
The past and present intertwined comfortably. Was it just a coincidence that I came here? Did my late father and aunt lead me here?
Late Father: “Yuh, you should visit the place where my family used to live. I would be happy.”
Late Aunt: “That's right, Yuh, you should go. I'm sure your grandfather and grandmother are waiting for you at the Inari shrine.” That's what they might have said.
I recall the events of this trip. The art festival and the islands of the Seto Inland Sea were truly impressive. However, the feeling that penetrated my heart still remains. It was a time spent walking with an old friend, retracing my childhood memories in Okayama. Above all, I could still feel the wind, as if my deceased grandparents were gently calling out to me or perhaps everyone had came to see me. I am grateful for this moment in time.
Thank you for reading my newsletter of July 2025.
-Yuh Okano
