At 1:30 pm on Saturday, I boarded the bus to Soya Misaki. It takes an
unexpectedly long time to reach the Northern Monument, which is
fifty-minutes down a winding road which runs along the coast. Along the way to Soya Misaki the view is split between a calm ocean coastline to the left, and rolling hills of green baby bamboo
leaves which shake like sugarcane in the wind. Because of the very strong wind that blows year-round there are almost no trees in
Wakkanai, creating a pastoral view that
is as expansive as the sea. Out in this area there are only a few small fishing boats, and an occasional
house interrupts an otherwise completely desolate view. While my eyes gazed out on this sparse part
of the earth I thought of the downtown area near Wakkanai station, and felt it was positively metropolitan.
The bus drops off passengers directly in front of the Northern Monument. Not
surprisingly, there were only a couple of people near the moment taking
pictures. I came here with a tight schedule, only 25 minutes to be exact,
before I had to catch the bus back to Wakkanai Station. If I missed that bus I
would be waiting over two hours for the next one. Originally, I had thought I might
stay in Soya Misaki for 3 hours to slowly enjoy the scene, but falling ill the
previous day and not being able to do anything, I could not afford to spend so
much time in one place. I jumped out
of the bus and hurried
to photograph the monument. Thankfully as there were very few other tourists, I could take a few solitary photos without
delay.
I then entered the peculiar blue gift shop next to the monument.
I had seen pictures of this place on the internet and I was looking forward
to finally getting to see what souvenirs Wakkanai had to offer. Expecting to find merchandise
arranged in clean and simple display (as in all other gift shops in Japan), I
was instead greeted with long fold-out tables and
plastic bins pilled with branded goods. The store’s gritty interior made it look
more like an indoor flea market than a proper gift shop for a famous monument, but in the few minutes I explored it I found
treasures inside such as a Putin matryoshka doll, some branded chopsticks, and a
single postcard of the monument. I quickly bought a few goods and headed across the
street, where a long
wooden staircase lead toward the peak of a grassy hill.
At the top I found the town’s old
navel watch tower, and a few other statues commemorating various points in
time. I had only enough
time to photograph the watch tower and an unusual bronze status of a milkmaid
before the bus arrived.
On the side of the street opposite the Northern Monument,
I boarded the bus back to Wakkanai Station. I was
predictably tired and
took the row of seats in the far back of the bus so that I could lay down and sleep through
the fifty-minute ride. Sleeping on
public transportation is quite normal in Japan, but it is quite
embarrassing and rude for someone to lay
down across five seats. Normally
I would not have been so bold as to do so, but I noticed a man sleeping on the same bus on the way to Soya Misaki, so I
decided this was somehow acceptable.
It
was 3:00 pm when I departed and the sun was at a striking angle. The bus
followed the same bowl-shaped path along the coast, and while I lay on the back