Wandering around Japan

Author: Mao Danqing / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-08-01
Features: As a lone traveler in a foreign land, I sometimes wish to embark on a journey to visit friends. Every time this thought arises, I choose autumn. Because Japan is mountainous, and the autumn sky is clear and crisp, it fills one with a sense of exhilaration! From Kobe, I drove to Hakata Port by ferry, then headed to Yamaguchi Prefecture in Kyushu by car. My friend said his home was in the mountains, with steep and treacherous roads, full of ups and downs and sharp turns, making driving dangerous. He advised me to take the electric train instead. So I did, preparing to board the train at the Fukuho Station.
This is a small station with only a few rural lines, most of which are single-track. Trains coming from opposite directions need to switch tracks, and the trains to the countryside run infrequently—listening to them, they seem similar to the little trains in The Taking of Tiger Mountain. It is said that "Fukuho" was a fortress as early as the 7th century. It faced the Seto Inland Sea and was the capital of a small country at the time. Soldiers sent to Kyushu for duty had a three-year term, but it was often extended. Some soldiers never saw their parents or families again after being stationed there. Historically, these soldiers were called "Fukumori," which must have been a tragic fate. However, during the Asuka period, the army of one of the local states in these regions had only 500 or so soldiers. Even in battle, they couldn’t achieve much. Japan is a country that rarely experiences civil wars.
The area around Fukuho Station is bare, with no tall buildings. Not far from the station, there is an intersection that doesn’t even have traffic lights. Fortunately, there aren’t many vehicles or people around, so the lack of signals doesn’t seem as important as it would in Tokyo or Osaka. I walked to the automatic ticket machine in front of the station and looked up to see that the fare to my destination was exactly 470 yen. I reached into my pocket to get the money, only to find that I had only large bills of 10,000 yen in my wallet. The maximum acceptance denomination of the ticket machine was only 1,000 yen. With no choice, I had to find a place to break the bills.
At the entrance to the station, there is a window, and even in broad daylight, the room inside is lit. No one is there. Around me, besides myself, there are no other passengers or ticket inspectors in sight. At this hour, the trains inside the station haven’t started yet, and the rows of carriages stand silently, creating an oppressive stillness. I shouted into the room, "Is anyone there? I need to break some bills!" No one answered, but the sound of the wind was in my ears—the leaves falling from the eaves drifted to the ground, stirring up a slight dust. Could the autumn wind be the busiest passenger at Fukuho Station?!
After a while, a sharp response came from a distance. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sorry to keep you waiting." A middle-aged ticket inspector ran out of the station. He held a long broom in his right hand, the bristle end held about half a foot off the ground, so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. Seeing this, I stopped shouting and handed him the money while saying, "I need to break some bills to buy a ticket." He took the money and opened the money chest on his workbench. After searching for a while, he frowned. "Ah, I don’t have any change here either," he said. He looked up and quickly added, "Please wait a moment, I’ll go get the change for you." I nodded, not knowing what to say. But just as he dashed out of the station, the train let out a sharp screech and was about to start.
Now I panicked. If the train had left while he was breaking the bills, what would I do? Moreover, the train schedule was already infrequent—missing this one would just be a waste of time. P15