hakodate

On the southern tip of Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, sits Hakodate, a quiet city with stunning views, a strangely dramatic history, and a lot of fresh, excellent seafood. During the 4-hour Shinkansen (bullet train) ride from Tokyo, I journaled, wrote letters to friends back home, and watched as countless houses, cars, forests, and mountains twisted and morphed together into one fluid, endless stream of scenes zooming past my window. I watched the green hills come alive with the colors of autumn as we hurtled northwards at 200 mph. At first there were only shy hints of orange or yellow peeking out between tall evergreens, but before long they took over the landscape and all I could see outside my window was a rich tapestry of swirling saffrons, fiery crimsons, and brilliant golds so intense you had to look away, if only briefly.

On the train ride up, I also made friends with the kind おばあさん (obaa-san, grandma) sitting next to me. She’s from Sendai, and gave me a huge list of recommendations for the city — along with several snacks in her convenient snack pouch. I was really touched by her friendliness and hospitality. She didn’t know much English so we spoke in Japanese, and insisted on calling me “Adventure Woman” (which is probably the only nickname I’ll ever accept). When she got off the train at the Sendai station, she told me in typical grandma fashion to be careful and wear more layers. I miss her already.

And now, the following is a collection of photos and brief descriptions of what I did in Hakodate. Because traveling is hectic and blogging takes way more time than I anticipated, I’m writing this post ten days after I visited Hakodate, aided by my overly-detailed journal entries and many pictures. These pictures and more will be in an official gallery at some point on my photography page but for now, here they are in candid blog format.

goryokaku fort

A stunning star-shaped fort modeled after European citadel towns in the 16th century. In 1853, after Commodore Perry said “knock-knock who’s there, oh hey it’s the US demanding that you open up,” Hakodate was designated as a port for trade. The Russians at the time were also eyeing the Tsugaru Strait and so the Tokugawa government, freaking out a little bit, ordered the intense 7-year long construction of Goryokaku Fort. Though the design is exquisite, Goryokaku literally means “five-angle enclosure” so they clearly didn’t get too creative with the naming.

view from inside the Goryokaku Tower

Hokkaido is famous for their fine dairy products, which means gelato and ice cream are served everywhere — even in 30-40 degree weather.

 

inside the fort

the thin, wavy trunks of these pines are so pleasing to the eye

 

this is probably my favorite picture of the evening — the moon, the radiant leaves, the couple leaning on each other — all give me an overwhelming sense of peace

 

a view of Goryokaku Tower and one of the moats

 

hakodate at night

wandered around the harbor after dark — it gets dark very early up north

cute hand-painted buoys

phenomenal view from the top of mt. hakodate

 

breakfast at hakodate morning market

 

An exquisite bowl of hotate (ホタテ, scallops), ikura (いくら, salmon roe), and uni (うに, sea uchin).

 

Seafood is so incredibly fresh and delicious in Hokkaido, it makes me never want to leave (or eat seafood anywhere else)

 

today’s ephemera

I’m listening to: Full Moon in Gemini by Vagabon. I fell in love with her voice — so deep, mellow, and perfectly rounded. The way her voice drags out the first line of the song — “Our bodies lie unresponsive, but kind” — makes me feel whole and complete.

I’m reading: this New Yorker piece by Chris Wiley on the unorthodox American street photographer Bruce GIlden. Wiley likens street photography to safari hunting and regular photographers to unobstrusive snipers. Bruce Gilden, however, stalks the streets

with a blinding flash attached to his camera, which he’ll pop off at an arm’s length from his subjects, petrifying them in the glare… this is akin to dismounting from your jeep and gambolling over to a lion so you can play a game of amateur animal tamer.

Looking at his pictures reveals the tension, anger, confusion, or fear in the eyes of his prey. It’s confrontational and direct, uncomfortably so, and yet unbelievably magnetic. While I don’t completely agree with Wiley’s lament that photographers have forsaken street photography and ‘vanished into our virtual worlds, halls of mirrors,” I can see how Gilden’s overtly aggressive style of photography is dying out in favor of spontaneity and candidness in portraiture.

something silly I did today: opened up the bottom of my film camera before rewinding the film, exposing it to light.. It only happened for a second before I sealed it back up but the damage was already done. When I get it developed, we’ll see what happens — praying the damage isn’t too bad.

I love: the way Japan’s landscape twists and slips past the window of the Shinkansen, how all the buildings, trees, roads, and mountains stretch and squeeze into a fluid running picture that disappears in a fraction of a second, leaving only the burning afterimage of its beauty in the retina of your memory.