Keen readers of my travelogue will recall that I was rather enamoured by the little delights of Miura Peninsula. Further to the north of the Peninsula is the town of Uraga. Uraga is famous not only in Japan but, dare I say, worldwide. This is the site where the US naval commander Matthew Perry (not the one from "Friends") came in 1853 with his four ships demanding the feudal dynasty, the Tokugawas, to give the Americans port and trade access. It is not at all far from my base in Yokohama. But I never actually made effort to go there because it is so close and I simply visited other places. So, I was to transport myself to the 1850s.
Stepping out of Uraga Station, my fellow walker, Cris, and I began finding our way to follow a suggested walking route. The local council issues a map containing four walking trails around Uraga. Managed to find our bearings we decided to walking along the Uraga Bay and check out temples and shrines dotted along the way.
The bay is a narrow tract of water flanked by hills on both sides and looks like an inlet. At the bottom of the wedge-like Bay is a shipyard. We walked along looking for temples and shrines as indicated on the map. Without clear signs in town, we had to ask locals for directions. After seeking help from a local resident, we walked towards the first temple. He followed us on a bicycle and gave us a more detailed description. On a day with blue sky, meeting someone with a generous heart makes walk such a pleasure. We went past three blocks of flats. Cris exclaimed "Communist style!". Born in Romania in the Communist days and growing up in Australia, the flats excited him. Tucked behind the major road, the flats were derelict and looked vacant.
It is poignant to read an information board in front of these flats. The board tells us that that these flats were built on a historical site. Back in the Edo period there used to be a local administration office whose functions stretched from court, police and customs excise. What we wanted to know was how the site was flattened to allow the flats to be built, and how the flats are so neglected. The temples and shrines are small, quiet and not at all touristy. They were "average" temples and shrines and did not have much architectural interests to leave us gasping in awe. After three temples and shrines we decided that there was not much to the temples and shrines. We then had lunch at the top of a hill whilst taking the sweeping view of the Bay. We decided to head back to Uraga station, and to walk towards Kannonzaki Park, which lies on the other side of the station.
The sun was rising higher now at noon, and the traffic was building up. More walkers were walking around, looking at maps attentively in search of the temples and shrines. We walked along quiet roads running parallel to the main road. The coastal road is popular among tourists on weekend drives and petrol heads on motorbikes. What struck me was how deserted the back roads appeared. There are small factories, shops and houses. The tone of the streets was a rich mixture. We saw corner shops run by grannies selling anything from pickled veggies and lollies, workshops with rusted corrugated metal walls, beaten-up vending machines, classy brand-new houses adorned with German and Italian cars narrowly parked in tiny parking spaces, derelict crocked houses. The scenery was nice enough, but felt sterile. We saw few people outside. It felt like we were walking through a deserted film location site.
It did not take much time for us to figure out why. We joined the main road briefly to get back to Uraga Station. Along the main road were supermarkets and chain stores - this was where the bulk of the locals shopped. We also struck one party of motorcyclists riding Yamaha. They paraded to show off their beloved vehicles with the mufflers OFF. This made such a racket. One passer-by wore an anguished expression whilst plugging her ears with her fingers. A few minutes after the party was gone, there came another party. This time all the motorbikes were Suzuki. So there would be one for Honda, one for Kawasaki, one for Harley Davidson, one for Ducatti...
What caught our attention were not historical sites, temples, shrines or beautiful women. We came across imposing concrete wall which stood almost perpendicular and rose to about easily fifteen to twenty metres above the ground. At the bottom were an old house and a warehouse storing timbre. A sign at the bottom of the wall said that it was for the "reinforcement of steep slope against landslide". The wall had two parts - one was bare grey cemented pasted and plastered the face of the slope. To the left was a square-box pattern with metal knobs sticking out at each corner of the square. It easily could have been a rock-climbing site! We wondered if the concrete would really prevent landslide, if temperature fluctuations would cause cracks and degradations and what would happen to the old derelict house and a timber warehouse underneath.
Then we made our way to Kannonzaki Park. The road was getting busy with families and groups on weekend drives. Along the road we saw a playing ground with numerous signs saying "We oppose the construction of a lifestyle complex". Across the road a vacant lot facing the ocean was earmarked for another high-rising complex. If the project goes ahead, it is plain to see the monolith will not only clutter the view, but also block sunlight for the residents nearby. Behind the complexes which are already built were the concrete-pasted hillsides. It looked like portions of hills were scooped out to enable the construction of such blocks of flats. Looking at the photographs of the Uraga town from the late 1800s and the early 1900s the area was looking congested already: small houses perched on the hills and hugging the coastlines desperately. But the concrete additions destroyed the green and made the hills look like grey-suited office workers. With power lines and poles criss-crossing the streets and houses, the destruction of scenic Uraga town was complete. "This is Rio! Urban slum!" Cris exclaimed. "Only gentrified", I added.
On the way we saw a few beaches whose sand was white and water clear. Cris was impressed by the beaches, and the lack of foreign tourists here. Following the footpath along the coast, we went past the carefully guarded grounds of the Defence Academy. We also climbed up a hill to see the Kannonzaki Lighthouse, the oldest western-styled lighthouse erected in 1869 - the year after Meiji Restoration began (I am more inclined to call it "Compromise"). Along the coast, the park was replete with joggers, families having picnics and barbecues. The lovely botanical garden was forelone. By the time we got there the crowd had gone home. The sun was going down and the amber rays were beaming onto full-bloom cosmos - intensifying the colours of the petals. The park offered us a welcome respite from the concrete overdose.
Out of the park we went through a residential area and descended towards Uraga station. Here we saw the box-patterned concrete reinforcement in the horizon. "We'll never get lost", I told Cris, "Just walk towards the concrete slope; we will get back to the station no problems. We saw lots of great stuff, but nothing tops that concrete slope", I said. "Yeah, I agree", he responded.
I am reminded of what the historian and a long-time critique of Japanese politics, Gavan McCormack, remarked noted as "three Cs of Japan: "Control, Consume and Construct". The Uraga landscape, a common landscape across Japan, confirmed McCormack's sharp eye. I wonder what Matthew Perry would have thought if he had seen the solid evidence of modernisation that Japan has so eagerly executed. Kannonzaki Park? Yes. Uraga town? No. History should be appreciated in real life and not merely in armchair. But on this occasion, armchair prevails.
(See www://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fl20070722x1.html)
