people and people

It was almost sunset when I arrived at Morioka Station. From Shin-Aomori Station, the green Hayabusa ¹ would take less than an hour. That was a tremendous speed for over 200 kilometers of land transportation. I have a weird habit whenever I ride a Shinkansen ² - I will almost never fail to play with pouring water. I like to see water flow down from a bottle. I’ll make sure to go to the washroom at least once just to witness water flowing from the tap. As a student of physics, the laws of motion have always amazed me - to see a fluid maintain a stable trajectory while also moving at 320 km/h.

Morioka was an unintended choice. To go to Akita from Aomori, one should either take the local Gono Line ³ across the west Tohoku coastline and enjoy the beautiful scenery of the Sea of Japan on the right and the Shirakami mountain range on the left, or, for those unlucky enough to face suspended train operations - like I did, taking a bullet train and transiting in Morioka is the other option. The journey was not bad at all, but it could have been better. In a way, it was a sign to return to Aomori someday and finally ride the Gono Line - and maybe, along the way, go see the untouched land of the UNESCO ancient beech tree forest ⁴.

Without any expectations, Morioka was just another stop. But it was hard not to grow fond of this place after the visit, even for just a day. From the station, the magnificent Mount Iwate can be seen. It was still a dark grayish green at this time of year. I heard how the people of Tohoku admire the beauty of Mount Iwate. There were no other mountain ranges surrounding it, making it stand out looking from the city. It feels as if the station is protected by the sunset shadows of this big mountain. The day was almost dark, but the bright yellow color of the station wall made the place feel warm - I wonder if they painted it yellow just to blend with this autumnal feeling.

It was quite dark to see the surroundings of the city. But it has an old vibe to it. Everything feels kind of vintage - the buildings, the sidewalks, the police box, except for the LCD boards displaying the departure and arrival times of the city buses. I got the gist that these buses must be important for the people in this city. Despite being clean, the buses seem to have lived through at least half a decade based on the vehicle model and the interiors. In Tokyo, buses are usually boarded from the front door and exited through the back, but in Tohoku it’s the opposite. This simple difference can cause a few startled moments while commuting within the city.

It was thirty past eight when I arrived at the Ryokan ⁵. The host was waiting for me to arrive. I loved how the Ryokan was designed - the house looked new but retained the delicate taste of traditional Japanese architecture. Dera, the host, confirmed that the house was rebuilt from an old Japanese-style home, with the main structure and wood from the original house maintained to preserve its soul in his new inn. Artwork and architectural drawings by a local artist from Morioka were hung along the stair walls, reminding me of my favorite building illustrator, Thibaud Herem ⁶.

This time of the year, the inn is not busy, there were no other customers in the inn except for one other woman. We all sat down in the living area through the night talking. The topics changed one after another, from traveling to sports, to something as serious as life struggles. Almost midnight when Dera opened his third can of beer, I asked why he named his inn ととと (ToToTo) ⁷. Yes it sounded clean as a brand especially when written in Hiragana ⁸, but I was curious whether it carried any meaning. Dera wanted the place to be one that connects people from all over the world, so he named it after 人と人 (hiTo-To-hiTo), which literally means ‘People and People’.

I woke up with a spinning head, it had been a while since I used all my brain power to chat in Japanese last night. The dizziness was temporary, but recovered right after I looked out from the small rooftop Ryokan windows. It was white outside - the city was snowing last night, this early in November. It was a Hatsuyuki ⁹ for the people of Morioka. Dera came back from his morning walk and assured me that I had to go see Mount Iwate. It was full of snow on the mountain top, he said. I packed my bags, wrote my farewell on a piece of tissue paper, and rushed to the nearest bus stop. I had to see why Dera’s face was so excited this morning, so I headed to the city center.

It was on the bus that I could actually see what the city of Morioka looks like, and my hunches from last night were right. The city was old, full of buildings with old architectural designs. It was preserved well, and the buildings blended nicely with the red, yellow, and brown colors of the autumn leaves. The whole city streets were full of falling leaves. The vibrance and saturation were high, aesthetically pretty when the morning sun hit - something I couldn’t feel at night. It was when the buses crossed the Kozukata Bridge that I finally saw the reason why Dera was excited earlier.

I had never seen a photo of Mount Iwate before, and seeing this today was a true justification to the stories I have heard. The mountain resembles Mount Fuji as the snow covers the top, due to its smooth decline on the right side. From Kitakami River, it looks quite symmetrical as Mount Fuji, even if not as perfect in shape. I was supposed to take a bus to Koiwai this morning, but I ended up being late. But it was worth it to spend every minute mesmerizing at the sight of this mountain, especially on its first day of snow. I walk slowly along the river, and gradually my walking pace adjusts to the local walking pace of the people of Morioka.