Bridge over Troubled Water

Out of sheer magnanimity and possibly pity for my helpless foreign self, my Japanese teacher offered to take me to Awaji Island. With her strictly Japanese-speaking husband and five year old daughter in tow, she picked me up at nearly the crack of dawn, explaining that she was excited "like child" to take this trip. I'm more than glad for that and willingly complied to the 7:30am meeting time she had prescribed for the start of our island adventure.

There are two (practical) ways to get to Awaji from Akashi. Taco Ferry and the bridge. The Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge is the world's longest suspension bridge that somewhat resembles my beloved Bay Bridge, linking San Francisco to Oakland, California. The bridge spans 3,911 meters/12,831 feet, but when passing over, it didn't feel like the longest bridge in the world. Maybe I have no conception of what that would feel like, but although excited, I didn't get those same feel-good goosebumps I get when crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge, in all is international orange glory. 

There's something exhilarating about crossing a bridge. Looking out across an expansive sea with the feeling like you're this little moving dot in the middle of it all and you have to make it across before you get sucked under. I try and hold my breath over bridges because I was once told it was good luck if you could make it all the way across. I usually give it a shot, but this time the bridges world-record reputation preceded itself and I was defeated before I began.    

Oftentimes in Japan, I am led around blindly by people who actually know what they're doing. In this case, the reason for the early morning was so that we could catch the first boat out. We drove straight through the island to the other end where we boarded what looked like an old pirate ship, replete with rusty masts and anchor.
We rolled out of the dock toward the Shikoku Bridge. Awaji is a small piece of land that connects Honshu and Shikoku. Beneath the bridge are where two water currents meet and clash, like an incompatible married couple arguing on vacation.
The waves attempted to grow, each trying to overpower one another with the momentum of their current, but they were ultimately pulled wayward into an aqueous whirlwind. The energy from the current was caught in what looked like an oversized drain to nowhere. 
And in the meantime, there was water caught between, like the children in the family who have to listen to their parents scream. They don't know where to go or what to do; they haplessly muddle around in their fluidic plight and try to maintain some sort of bearing in this briny mess. 
And like the aftermath of an explosion, the debris implodes and is inhaled. From the safety of the ship, it looked like a spectacular sight of ocean activity and a raw display of the sea's power over man. I clung to my camera with the frightened image of it plunging overboard and engulfed in one of these acrid whirlpools.

This is Emily, my teacher's daughter. She was sass to the max and definitely the boss of the house. Reminded me of, well, me when I was her age. 
After the cruise, we stopped for a footbath. I got shivers when I put my feet in. The warm water raised my bristly, untended leg hair and I felt a tingle up to my head and was immediately relaxed. The water had a creamy consistency, perhaps it had certain minerals mixed. Of course, I would have no way of knowing. But, if this was any indication of the full hot spring treatment, I'm ready for that excursion any day.
We then drove to Keinomatsubara beach, which on a summer Sunday, was packed with campers, grills and inflatable beach toys. A common trend I've noticed at beaches is about 10 meters out in the water, there is a small, floating plastic island where people love to swim to and pack on. I guess being on an actual island isn't fun enough...a cramped bright yellow plastic one is where the real party's at. 
Emily and her pops are playing in the ocean, trying to dismiss any looming threat of kurage (jellyfish) that populate Japanese waters toward the end of July and early August. Even the marine life here lives like clockwork. 

In front of our sand perch where we enjoyed some cold Asahi and tacoyaki, a group of tattooed miscreants buried their drunk friend while he was passed out in the sun. They then proceeded to draw with marker on his face, making this image below. 
Next stop on this magical mystery tour was the aroma factory for the chance to make our own incense. With an old-fashioned pestle and mortar, we mixed a brown-packaged powder that was apparently blue, pink or yellow when a thimble full of water is added. Then, we poured in an aroma of our choosing and used enough elbow grease to form a paste, which we then flattened out and carved shapes from. I fashioned everything from a star to a sausage dog and was proud of my handmade jasmine blend of original aromatics. Trademarked here and now. 
Nothing says success like a Kobe steak dinner. This topped off the generosity and kindness of this lovely Japanese family who had taken this foreign fool around in an air conditioned car to see nearly an entire island, albeit smaller than the size of New Jersey. 

My mouth literally waters uncontrollably thinking about how delicious that steak was. It was the most scrumptious fat-laden piece of meat I've ever tried. It rolled down my throat like butter and I couldn't eat the pieces fast enough to satiate my hunger for more. I felt like such an animal. 

An anti-climactic ending to a more than eventful day as we watched from Akashi the fireworks display in Awaji. There was a drizzle and fog shrouded our less-than-optimal view. Nonetheless, I felt only the kind of comfort you know from being at home in the presence of family and was happy for that.  

It was a divine exhaustion from a day full of sand, steak and sea.