I looked up our destination on the way to Miyajima, and formed a plan that was well executed - first, drop our bags, have lunch, then check out the tori gate for the main shrine at low tide. Then, walk up to the "ropeway" (gondolas) and ride to an observatory on Mount Misen.
It went remarkably well! We stopped at the first restaurant we saw with tables, and all sat facing the cooks as they made "okinomiyaki" - soba noodles, thinly sliced meat, sprouts, and either squid and shrimp or oyster with a thin pancake on one side and an egg later on the other. We beat the rush; all the seats were taken when we left, and three cooks were on the assembly line. This Hiroshima speciality filled us up we were on to the next task - touching the tori gate.
It wasn't quite low tide yet, so we strolled through the Itsukushima Shrine. (Looking again at my ticket, this thing is old - first built in 593 then rebuilt in 1168.) A wedding party was dazzling (and not just because of the bright sun reflecting off her white kimono). We walked along the boardwalks connecting the couple closed off rooms, then headed toward the beach.
The shrine is at the midpoint of a horseshoe beach, with the tori gate between the two tips. Valerie and I danced along the muddy sand to get up close to the roughly 16 meter tall gate.
I was probably more proud of getting there without getting my feet wet than I was excited about touching it. On the gates, mollusks had coated what normally lay below water. In the sand, tiny creatures inched their conical shells along the gritty ground.
We leaped over the few trickles to get back to Grandma and Grandpa. It wasn't until ten minutes into our uphill hike that I remembered reading about a shuttle that would have dropped us off at the bottom of the ropeway; instead, we earned our supper on that slope.
The ticket station had steps up to the entry to the first of the two ropeways. This one dangled cars which could hold up to six people; in the second one, about twenty people could fit into the hovering room.
A small exhibit with benches is where we agreed to meet Grandma; she was almost done with her "quota of stairs" for the day, and the closest shrine was a twenty minute walk. Grandma accompanied us, though we pulled ahead when he stopped for some pictures and a breather.
The temple holding the eternal flame was much different than I had pictured. A sleek modern building was on a lot of the posters - turns out, that was actually the observatory that was at the peak. The eternal flame shrine was a single wooden room with a bunch of candles and incense - it was actually overwhelmingly smoky!
Val and I said hi to Grandpa as he panted up, then continued the final ten minutes, through the "duck-under rock" (duck the verb, not the noun) to the observatory.
There was a wonderful 360 degree view of the mountain range to the west, Hiroshima to the north, and the inland sea spotted with tree-topped rock islands to the east. It was staggering, and also a bit breezy - there was a chill up my sweaty spine for both those reasons.
Val and I trotted down the mountain talking about boys and were quickly back to the meeting place with Grandma and Grandpa. The loudspeaker had been going once every 15 minutes alerting us of the next ropeway departure, and reminding us that the final departure was at 5:30.
We took something like the 4:30 car down the mountain, and we managed to find the shuttle bus and squeeze on for a switched-back ride to the city center.
Right on the corner as we were dropped off, a shop was selling "melon pan." I read the sign aloud: "what is melon pan?" The Swiss lady that Grandpa had befriended answered by telling us it was a sweet bun, and to eat it quickly if you add ice cream - it melts fast. She also said it was a disappointment if you spent half an hour walked to find it in Kyoto and expecting something melon-flavored.
Well, since I didn't expect or want anything melon-flavored and since I hadn't spent thirty minutes walking to find it, I was over-joyed with the sweet crisp of a bun with a hatched top and yummy warm center that was bready and soaking up the dripping ice cream that had been sliced into the middle.
Mine was done in like three bites, so I had to take a picture of Valerie's to document. The sign was also hilarious - "Even world #1 ice cream eaters, the Americans, don't know about this fantastic ice cream only offered in JAPAN!"
I think I've found my calling - bringing freshly baked melon pan to America. Don't worry, #1 ice cream eaters! I got you.
The "deer beer" happy hour spot was closed, so we wandered along the water until we found a hotel bar that looked out at the sunset. Val had a Premium draft beer, and Grandma and Grandpa had the local Miyajima beer, and I had a very lemon-y lemon sake. The sunset while we chatted and plotted the next day's plans.
We were sipping and savoring so much that the island was dark and boarded up when we emerged from the hotel. First, we captured the tori gate alit from shore, its fiery red reflected in the high tide. The deer were mostly curled up in the tree beds by the sidewalk, also waiting for the next bout of tourists in the morning. It was holy - like you'd expect an island full of shrines to be.
Which is all well and good until you need supper before bed. A single pub with a huge waiting list was open, so Valerie and I investigated and found a nice looking and oddly empty restaurant a block down the deserted main street. Maybe it was because everything on the menu was eel?
Well, not everything, since we got oyster fried rice and fried oysters as well as the tempura eel and vegetable dish. Each of the three platters came with clam miso soup, a tiny trio of pickled vegetables tied together with seaweed, and some other side. Whatever came with the tempura eel was cold and squishy and not good; otherwise, the meal wasn't what we were expecting but was at a real table and filled us up. Given the look of the place, I wasn't surprised at the quality, but instead just happy about it.
We walked the two blocks back to our ryokan (Japanese guesthouse), passing the world's largest rice paddle (or close to - fifteen feet and made from wood, it had to be good for something, right?) We all slept in twin beds all in the same room, and the lights were out by ten. The sleepy island was wearing off on us.
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