a girl with a red skirt

Inawashiro was not the intended location for this trip. It was just a rest stop while heading to Aizu-Wakamatsu. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Being a fan of mountainous nature views, taking a long ride on the local Tadami Line train has been a dream for a long time. Japan is currently under lock down due to the Coronavirus pandemic, no inbound visitors are allowed to visit. People in Japan however are still free to roam around the country. The Shinkansen ¹ has been uncannily empty compared to when tourists were around. While heading to Aizu-Wakamatsu from Tokyo through Koriyama, there was no reason for me not to stop here.

Inawashiro was always a place that I have wanted to visit again. This was where I saw and touched snow for the first time a few years ago, a place that only a dream could imagine, with a beautiful snowy view of Lake Inawashiro and Mount Bandai. I went there by accident on a business trip. The majestic view shocked me, but I tried not to show it. I had taken a few photos of this place, and they have always been on my computer screen since then. Looking back at these old photos, I was excited, cheerful, and full of energy. Work and people have taken a toll on me. I wish that this visit will bring back the old me - a simpler, brighter man who is trapped somewhere inside this body.

Getting off at Inawashiro Station, something felt different. It was gloomy and snowy during my first visit, but it was bright and sunny today. The town’s mood felt slightly more cheerful, just because the sun decided to show up. A girl in a black jacket and a bright red skirt was walking quickly on the snowy pedestrian path toward the station - she might be late for something. The way she walked somehow resembled the people of Tokyo, always in a hurry and busy. The locals here were nothing like that, everything moved slowly in their own pace. Perhaps it was because trains on the Ban-Etsusai Line were only scheduled every few hours, she might not want to miss this one.

While waiting for the next train, I get to rest here for a few hours and watch how people here live their lives. I also wanted to remember the excitement I felt when I came here a few years ago, but I can’t. It was too long ago - I’ve lost the way back to the person I was. I guess that’s how life works. Once a moment passes, we can never relive it back. But that doesn’t mean today’s visit has suddenly become meaningless. It is exciting in its own way - a different kind of experience from the one I once had.

The roads in this town are equipped with warm water sprinklers in the middle to clear snow, just like in other snowy regions of Japan. The houses here are brightly colored - my favorite is a creamy yellow, standing out in high contrast against the snowy surroundings. This is unlike houses in Tokyo, where the color ranges only from white to gray, sometimes brown. Brightly colored Kei trucks ², either it’s moving or parked, given saturations to this unusually white town.

Similar as any other rural area in Japan, this town is underpopulated. There were a few old people outside on their lawns, cleaning up the piles of snow from last night. Not being able to do any farm work during winter may have made them bored. I saw them through my Fujifilm’s viewfinder - an ecstatic panoramic view of a community living under the shadows of Mount Bandai, one of the stratovolcanoes in this region.

The last eruption of Mount Bandai was exactly 100 years before I was born. I once saw an Ukiyo-e ³ drawing of this eruption event - it was beautifully portrayed but devastating to look at. On the other side of the mountains, the area has now transformed into Ura-Bandai due to the eruption, which, as said by Kyuka Fukada, is “a scenic masterpiece” ⁴. As I was mesmerized by this scenic and memorable visit, I found myself late to catch my next train to Aizu-Wakamatsu. I ended up running to the station like the girl with the red skirt I had seen earlier.