Takamatsu is the second largest city on Shikoku, and sits on the Seto Inland Sea side of the island, giving ferry access to Kobe and the many islands in between. From the cosy airport, it was a fifty-minute bus ride to the city centre through green mountains and countryside. The sight of so many trees in the city was a pleasant surprise as the bus drove to the station, with the main boulevard separated by a long row of large trees.
Beside the station was a new shopping centre. I had a gander inside a shop on the ground floor that sold imported food. £5 for a Terry’s Chocolate Orange? No thanks. The Starbucks inside the station felt quite novel, its back-end overlooking the train tracks leading to the end of the line right beneath, and offering a relaxing view of people frantically rushing to and fro while I enjoyed my latte.
A row of Mount Fuji cultists (look them up) stood directly outside the station. They were holding posters and trying to hand out leaflets to anyone unfortunate enough to be in too close a proximity. In fact, here’s one of the few pieces of useful advice you’ll ever read on this site; When you come to Japan and get approached by someone in public, usually a young, attractive woman or two if you’re a fella, and they speak decent English and ask you if you want to hang out or they want to practice their English, there’s more than a high probability they’re trying to recruit you into a cult. When they inevitably ask for all of your personal information and to accompany them to a temple or shrine under the guise of teaching you Japanese culture, treat them as though you were a child in the 80s and 90s being offered drugs: Just Say No.
Anyway, behind them and past a big fountain, the tallest building in the city shot into the blue sky. Inside the Symbol Tower, I ate some breakfast, then headed up to the observation deck on the thirtieth floor. I got lost along the way. The good thing about this deck was that there was a rather extensive area outside, from where my eyes were locked on the myriad of islands visible in the distance that almost glowed in their vibrancy.
I found myself drifting off to Hawaiian music and began to live a life in a remote Pacific jungle somewhere, harvesting mangoes and avocados while my chickens roamed happy and free. Then the music stopped. The group of Hula dancers by the edge decided to take a break from practicing for whatever performance was coming. I looked up again and had flashbacks of being attacked by crows from when I went out to Shodoshima.
Ferries and ships dotted the sea and a pleasant breeze cooled me down as I walked along the pier. A Russian couple stopped me, and the man said “board walk.” I said “Sorry, I’m not sure.” He said it again a bit louder, and I told him again that I didn’t know. He then used his fingers to simulate walking, and said it even louder and more slowly, like I had scrambled eggs inside my skull instead of scrambled brains. I raised my tone and condescension to match his. “I dunno. I don’t know what you want me to say.” He dismissively shook his head, and the pair walked off. I hope they never found what they were looking for.
Just across the road, the giant stones that made up the walls of Takamatsu Castle stood below neatly manicured trees. The entry fee was cheap, so I thought why not. The majority of the area was a garden and moat, with a few Edo style buildings throughout, and a park on the southern side. A small boat manned by a single standing rower gently ferried some tourists across the calm water while people took photos.
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Three castles in Japan have seawater moats, but only this one has the alternative name Tamamo Castle, which translates to a name that sounds like a Mario level, “Seaweed Castle.” Built in 1588, it overlooks the Seto Inland Sea, and its location was chosen by General Ikoma Chikamasa as the ideal place to protect Toyotomi territory from the Mori of Honshu. In the middle of the grounds is a luxury villa built by the Matsudaira family, who were awarded the province by the Tokugawa Shogunate in 1642. They handed the castle over to the army for a brief period at the end of the 1800s, then upon its return, the family opened it up to the public.
The tallest of the foundations was accessible via a roofed wooden bridge extending over the water. From the top, the elevated view allowed a better appreciation of the entire complex and its surroundings. On one side, the downtown buildings, and the park just on the other side of the moat where families picnicked under the shade of the trees. And the other side, ocean, islands, and the rest of Japan.
Looking for some shade myself, I went south, to where the self-proclaimed longest shopping arcade in Japan ran adjacent to the tree-lined boulevard. About a mile long, the end closest to the station looked more high-end, with the likes of Rolex and Tiffany’s in the main junction that connected several streets, and a nice glass dome which hung over the centre where a two-man jazz band performed to a sizeable crowd.
I made a stop at Sanuki Udon for lunch. Kagawa is proud of its udon, and Sanuki is the old name of the prefecture. The name can be seen all over the place. Even the local J3 football team dons the name Sanuki Kamatamare, and their badge even has a big bowl of udon in the middle. Cafeteria style, I made my order of curry udon, then slid my tray down the line to the cashier who told me they didn’t accept card. This was especially fun because I didn’t have any money. She laughed and put my food to the side while I ran to an ATM.
Further south, at the foot of Mount Shiun, Ritsurin Garden felt like it was crafted by an artist. It held a beauty from every angle, no matter where I stood or which direction I faced. It’s difficult to explain, but I could definitely feel something, several things actually, when I looked at how each pond, hill, and tree interacted not just in the forefront, but with the mountain looming behind. As much as I appreciated it in the full bloom of summer, a quick image search to see what it looked like in autumn, winter, and spring gave was a pang of sadness that it wasn’t any other season than this.
All the water I’d drank finally began to catch up. It took far too long to find a convenience store, but when I did, it was being cleaned. Nearby, in a little park, there were public toilets, but the urinals were on the outside in full view. I decided not to risk an indecent exposure charge. Heading towards the centre, I passed through Chuo Park, where there was another set of exposed urinals. I bleated in exasperation and continued on to a Family Mart further ahead.
Takamatsu isn’t particularly big, meaning night time activities basically come down to boozing. I stood at the bar as the sun was setting, drinking Guinness, of course. Behind me, a group of three were playing a light gun game on a big projector that was kind of loud, and beside me, a lone drinker was eating nuts. He must’ve been there for quite a while because the floor around his feet was piled with shells. I wondered who was going to clean it up.
I moved on to a more intimate establishment, where being the only foreigner caused a bit of a stir. The barman recommended some sort of tomato cocktail, which sounded rotten but was actually pretty good. At the table beside the bar, the group was telling one of their members to come over to talk to me. His English was better than mine. He told me he was from Tokyo, but moved here because of his job, which he kept secret because he didn’t want his family and friends to judge him.
He was a handsome boy, so I assumed he was a host or something adult industry related, but he opened up with more alcohol and the amusement that no one else in that bar could understand our conversation, revealing to me that he was a Youtuber. Not quite as exciting as I expected, and not exactly a profession to be ashamed of in this day and age.
I walked around the most lively area, then along the empty boulevard. It was after midnight and the weather was perfect. Everything felt chill under the stars. Everything had felt chill the entire time I was in Takamatsu. Most of the traffic was made up by yankees (look them up). They waited at each set of red lights on their bikes, constantly revving their engines like children who just learned that putting playing cards in the spokes of their baby wheels made them feel cool.
