52 Fujis #12 - Fujikawa (Shizuoka)

I imagine you all thought the 52 Fujis had died a death, that I’d realized the enormity of the task, and just given up. Oh no, no, no. I’m still as stupid as ever, I assure you. I’ve just been busy being on holiday, getting married twice (once in Japan, once in Norn Iron), going on honeymoon, celebrating Christmas, celebrating New Year… The list is almost as endless as the Fujis now seem, but I’ve started again.

Fujikawa is not far from my house. Not far at all. In fact, it probably takes longer to get there by train than it does to walk; you take the Minobu line to Fuji, change to the Tokaido line, and its the next stop. All of fifteen minutes. On the other hand, I can see it from my balcony. It’d take me ten minutes to walk there if I walked like I do for my train to work. (Which is sometimes more like running, but you know what I mean.) Fujikawa is practically in Fuji City: there are even plans afoot for Fujikawa to merge in to its big brother. There’s one thing that makes it clear though that they are different places. The big river in the way; the Fuji river, or, in Japanese if you prefer, the Fujikawa.

You see, the town takes its name from the river right on its doorstep, and stretches out along the bank of that river for what seems an eternity. You could be forgiven for thinking that Fujikawa was only one street, ranged up along the bank of the river. You come out of the station and see the road stretching away up towards the Rakuza, the most famous tourist attraction in the place. (Its a motorway service area. Although it does have great views of Mount Fuji.)

There has to be something more to the place - this is, after all the site of the famous Battle of Fujigawa. Legend has it that this non-battle took place during the Taira-Minamoto war between 1180 and 1185. A Minamoto scouting party startled some geese, which in turn startled the Taira troops who in turn ran away. They were eventually to lose the war, and with courage like this, I can’t say I’m surprised. Minamoto would take control of Japan, set up a military government and begin the Kamakura period. This was a country shaping moment, this battle. Although, since it never really happened, there’s nothing to see. Well, there has to be something up in the hills behind the main drag. Something that isn’t the Rakuza.

There is. Its called the Tomei expressway. Mind you, there’s a lot more town in between that I’ve just skipped over, so why don’t I go back to the beginning.

Fujikawa station is odd in that it reminds me of a school. Take a look for yourself -

Outside, its just as nondescript. It could be any old office building in any country in the world.

(The sign saying “Fujikawa Station” is a bit of a giveaway, I admit.) From the station its not very far until you get to the main drag which, as I’ve said, stretches from the border of the town with Kanbara (another sleepy town to the west) to the border with Fujinomiya in the north-east. In between (in no particular order) there’s some pachinko parlours, the Rakuza, some rather old shops and oh wait - up in the hills there’s more stuff. There’s the Ura Mountain Park. Let’s check that out then.

Now before you get to the Ura Mountain Park proper, you have a bit of climbing to do. You pass by houses, a post office, a school, a kindergarten - nothing very exciting, or puzzling. There are these annoying things in some of the pavements -

I hate these things. They make a ferocious noise when you walk over them, they make a maddening noise when you cycle over them, and they’re completely and utterly pointless. They exist to cover holes in the pavement that probably allow workmen to lift the slabs up easily for access to the drain below. They’re probably covering the holes so people don’t drop things in them. There must be a better way to design pavements.

And then you find it - the weird monument.

I thought it might be a war memorial but Mrs. Boyle explained she doesn’t know what the kanji mean. Which means that we’re in the dark people. Its a weird homage to something in Japanese. It could be a monument to the biggest John Waters fan in Fujikawa. It could be a monument to the smallest sandwich ever made. No-one here knows. It looks nice though, and there was lots of wildlife in the trees around. I’m sure I heard a woodpecker, although it didn’t laugh like TV taught me they did.

I sat down here to take in the view, and to get my bearings - my plan was to head back east across the hills and then down to the bridge that’s only about ten minutes from my house. That’s when I noticed the sun god for the first time. I knew then that I had to become one with him.

To enter his mouth would be the greatest honour. When I did though, I found he was made of plastic. To add insult to injury, the railings bordering the stairs leading up to him were made of concrete masquerading as wood. A very Japanese masquerade and one which fires up my blood pressure. Best not to think about it and see what lies at the top of the hill, I told myself.

The top of the hill was exactly as it should have been. Deserted and weird. This is rural Japan, and rural Japan seems to be the playground for architects who escaped the Soviet bloc and now want to try things with more colour in them. Take, for instance this bright blue water tank -

or these insects, gathered round the play area with no function -

Their purpose is to be there. That is all. If these aren’t quite mad enough for you, have a look at the acid inspired viewing platform, set atop some mighty stairs, colour coded a la Tetris (traditional Soviet puzzle game) with a big arrow, so you can easily comprehend that these stairs are for going UP. UP. Going down is not permitted. You must only go UP.

Phew. This was all a little too much. I looked around, desperate for someone to share in the insanity. Although it wasn’t really that insane. Or was it?

I settled for enjoying the view. Then finding a way out of the madness.

The way out came via a small concreted path at the other end of the park, which led into the grounds of a temple. A temple which turned out to have a puzzling name. (I was sure I was reading it wrong. I was. Just not that wrong. Mrs.Boyle’s not sure of the right way either.) The first thing I saw in the temple were graves. Which wasn’t so unusual. What was unusual (for me - maybe this is normal if you’re from Fujikawa) was that this was a pet cemetery. Look, this dog was called Pony -

- or perhaps it was really a pony who liked dogs.

Another feature of the temple was the winding path that led up the hill again, along which were dotted 33 statues. These statues had money on them. And one of them even had a broken mobile phone on it. This same statue had a dead vole in front of it too. I made sure I said a prayer here, since it was obviously popular with all sides of the community. The idea of this route is to pray in front of each statue, to help you focus your mind. It wasn’t until I found the way out that I realized I’d done the whole thing backwards. Fortunately, this did not mean that I became less focused. Or maybe it did. I’m not sure. In fact, I can’t clearly remember the whole thing that well.

The way out of the temple brought me out exactly where I’d hoped it would - about five minutes walk back down to the main drag, but much further along, and much closer to the bridge home. I saw some old school barbed wire guarding some oranges, and I remembered how someone had told me that Fujikawa was famous for kiwi fruit. The funny thing is, I’ve still never once seen any kiwi in Fujikawa. I took a picture of the barbed wire, as barbed wire reminds me of a Stiff Little Fingers song, and also Colony, a game I used to play on my Speccy +2 when I was a lad. I’m ever so sentimental. I got what looked like a nice shot, and turned round to see an old woman smiling at me. She asked me how Mount Fuji was looking today.
“Unfortunately, I can’t see it.” (It was cloudy today. The barbed wire I had just been photographing was in the opposite direction to where Fuji is. Still, she was trying.)
“That’s too bad.” She smiled and we both kept on walking. I thought about how that was two Saturdays in a row now that people had actually spoken to me like I was from round these parts. In a good way.

On the way to the bridge I got a glimpse of a different kind of Fuji, decorating the front of some business, providing a glorious backdrop to a bus stop -

Oh yes. The 52 Fujis are back.

Fujis remaining : 40

More pics at Flickr: link.

Don’t know what the 52 Fujis is about? Check this out.

Sunday, January 21st, 2007 52 Fujis, Japan Trackback URL for this entry