After two of us made crazy trips to Nara and Naruto, we decided that somewhere quiet would be good for our weekend. We asked our person-in-charge, Miyamoto-san for any good recommendations, and she recommended this place called Yamanakadani to us. Surprisingly it was only a few stops from where we stayed.
Took the JR line from our place to Hineno, then changed to the Wakayama line. We took the rapid service by accident, and by-passed Yamanakadani at first, so we got off at Kii, and changed to the local train bound for Osaka to get back to Yamanakadani.
Finally got off, and it was beautiful, because it was still the Sakura season. The trees were in full bloom along the railway, and apart from the rumbling noise of the train, it was very quiet. After the train left, we were left with the sound of us walking across the bridge to the station.
There was no station worker, and the station was only a small wooden building. Tickets for the train were sold in a vending machine. So I kept my ticket as a momento.
Went to a shop right opposite the station, and we bought Asahi Super Dry from the kind old couple who were manning the shop. They had pictures of their grandchildren plastered on a side of a wall, but they don’t seem to be anywhere around in the shop, save for some old folks. One old fellow recommended us the route to take if we wanted to enjoy the sakuras in this sleepy town.
Walked along the quiet street, and saw houses from Edo period. Some of them were even made into museums, but unfortunately they were closed for the weekend.
We soon came to the large sakura tree which they mentioned, and it was in full bloom. I’m sad that there’s no other word than ‘beautiful’ to explain it. It was breathtaking, yet the dainty pink flowers which are often linked to the fleeting nature of the world, makes it heart-breaking to look at at the same time.
Eventually we came to the stream, so we decided to sit by the stream in the shade and drink. It was really different from the usual bustling enviroment of the city, and we stoned there for about half to an hour, just watching the sakura petals falling into the water and being drifted away.
Further up there was also a small graveyard. In contrast to the ghastly impressions of graveyards I have, it appeared to be nothing more than a small garden tucked away in a quiet corner, right behind a large sakura tree. If I died, and were to be buried here, I think I would be happy to spend the days staring at the flowers with a lush mountain behind me.
By late afternoon, we decided to take the train back to Rinku, dropped by the shop again to have a snack, and the old man shoved us free buns to eat.
Before we left, the old lady told us “また来てね！” (Please come back again!)
But we never went back.
この長い旅で 