A Rainy Day in Enoshima... Diary Entry #12
There are days when living in Japan feels exciting, and there are days when it simply feels like life.
Work, trains, emails, laundry, groceries, repeat.
And then every once in a while, I feel the need to remind myself that this is still a country I once dreamed about living in and that there are places just an hour or two away that I have never seen.
So, on a Friday in August, right in the middle of the Obon holidays, I took the day off and went to Enoshima.
Enoshima had been sitting on my “I really should go there someday” list for a long time. I had wanted to visit, but somehow never found the time, the energy, or, if I’m being completely honest, the motivation. It is a small island just off the coast of Kanagawa, near Kamakura, connected to the mainland by a bridge. It is known for its shrines, narrow streets, sea views, caves, little cafés and shops, and on clear days you can even catch a view of Mount Fuji. It is close enough to Tokyo for an easy day trip, but once you cross the bridge, it feels like a small escape from the city.
Usually, when I go somewhere popular, I try to leave ridiculously early. I like having places almost to myself, and since I tend to take a lot of photos, it also means I can happily point my camera at everything without feeling like I am annoying everyone around.
That was the plan for Enoshima too.
The only problem was that I completely failed at the waking-up-early part. Still, it was a weekday, so I decided to go anyway. And I’m very glad I did, although it didn’t take long for the crowds to remind me why I normally drag myself out of bed at unreasonable hours.
I left home just after 10 and started the roughly 90-minute journey. The weather forecast was saying rain, and only after reaching the station, have I realized that I had forgotten my umbrella. Going back felt like far too much effort, so surely I could buy one there.
After getting off the beautiful Enoden train, it was only a short walk towards the island. You reach Enoshima by crossing a long bridge over the sea, and from a distance everything looked wonderfully summery - the sea with blue water, boats, people walking towards the island. But even from afar you could tell it was quite crowded.
For a brief moment, I considered turning around and trying again another day. Thankfully, something much stronger than my dislike of crowds convinced me to continue: Hunger.
I had a café saved on Google Maps called Sun Café Paradise, I mean, with that name it juts cannot be bad. Coming from a landlocked country, there is still something strangely exciting to me about restaurants and cafes overlooking the sea. It just makes everything feel like a holiday.
When I arrived, there were only two girls sitting on the terrace, so I immediately decided that was where I wanted to be too. The air was surprisingly cool and pleasant while dark rain clouds were slowly moving towards the island in the distance. The weather app confidently informed me that I had about 38 minutes before the rain started. Perfect. Plenty of time for lunch.
I ordered gapao rice and a ginger soda, and both were delicious. I sat there for a while enjoying the sea breeze, looking over the little marina and towards the beach in the distance, where people were still happily enjoying themselves despite the increasingly suspicious-looking sky. I finished my lunch, said goodbye to the cafe and almost exactly on schedule, it started raining.
First came a few harmless drops. Then a drizzle. Then proper, full-on rain. I really should have brought and umbrella.
I had assumed I could simply buy one at a convenience store once I arrived, because this is Japan and there is always a convenience store somewhere, right? Well, not here. So once again I opened google maps and found yet another cafe that I had marked in my "To Go List" - Cafe Shuk Ring. Off we go!
Enoshima is very.. vertical. You can see somewhere on the map that appears to be a few minutes away, only to discover that those few minutes involve a hundred stairs.
I guess that is also a part of the charm. As you make your way higher you suddenly get little views of the sea, the coast and the rooftops below. I found myself walking through narrow streets that felt much more residential than touristy.
With the rain falling around me and absolutely no obvious café in sight, but then I found it. The place looked much less like a café and much more like someone’s house. I stood outside for a second, unsure whether I was about to walk into a lovely hidden café or accidentally enter somebody’s living room.
I slowly opened the sliding door.
The moment I opened the door, it felt like I had stepped into a scene from a movie.
It was a tiny café, with a small bar and an older gentleman standing quietly behind it. Soft, jazzy music was playing in the background, and on the left side of the room was a huge window from which you could see all the way to the sea. Next to it stood a short bookshelf with a few handmade goods and souvenirs displayed on top. In the corner, there was one small round table with two chairs. No other guests.
The master looked up from behind the bar, nodded at me and motioned towards the table. I was still standing awkwardly at the entrance, trying to figure out whether I was supposed to take my shoes off.
「そのままでいいですよ。」You can leave them on.
Apparently my confusion was quite obvious.
I sat down and found two little menu books waiting on the table, one red and one yellow. The red one was entirely dedicated to coffee - different beans, different preparations, their specialties. The yellow one had the rest of the menu. A moment later, the master brought me a glass of water and I ordered an iced coffee, a cherry soda and a slice of apple pie.
Outside, the rain was still coming down. Inside, jazz was playing, the coffee was delicious and through the large window I could watch the grey sea disappear into the rainy horizon.
Oh yes. I could definitely use more of this in my life.
Next to the window I noticed a small guest book, so while finishing my coffee I picked it up and started reading. There were messages from people who had visited months ago, some more than a year earlier, written in Japanese, English, Korean and a few other languages. People wrote about the weather, the view, the season they had visited in, how peaceful the café felt. Some had come on sunny days, others in winter, others apparently while escaping the rain just like me.
It was strangely comforting reading through them. All these people had sat at this exact little table, looked through the same window and, in one way or another, seemed to have fallen in love with this tiny café too.
sBy the time I finished my cake and coffee and added my own small message to the guest book, the rain had started to ease. I paid, exchanged a few words with the master and stepped outside.
The clouds were slowly breaking apart and patches of blue were appearing in the sky. Boats were heading back out onto the water, the sea was sparkling again and everything still had that fresh smell that comes just after heavy summer rain.
Unfortunately, the freshness lasted approximately three seconds.
It was still August in Japan. The heat and humidity returned almost immediately, my clothes started sticking to me again, and the cicadas were screaming from the trees at a volume you would not believed can be produced by such a small being.
I continued upwards through the narrow streets towards Enoshima Shrine, a shrine closely associated with Benzaiten, one of Japan’s most beloved deities of music, beauty, fortune, and the arts.
Apparently everyone else on the island had been waiting for the rain to stop too, because by the time I reached the shrine, the crowds were very much back.
I reached the main shrine hall and waited around ten minutes in line to do my greetings. Afterwards, I went looking for an omikuji - the little paper fortunes you can draw at shrines and temples that usually tell you your general luck and then give predictions or advice about things like work, money, relationships, health and travel. The one you can buy here comes with a fun twist. It was a mizu-mikuji - a water fortune.
When you first pick up the paper, it looks completely blank. You then place it onto the surface of a small pond beside the shrine, and as the paper gets wet, your fortune slowly begins to appear.
There was a small box where you put your payment before taking a fortune yourself. It cost 200 yen, but I only had a 500-yen coin. As I was considering my options with the coin in hand, a girl standing behind me asked, “Do you need change?” Kindness is not gone from this world after all!
I very happily accepted, put my newly acquired 200 yen into the box, 300 in my pocket and took one of the blank papers from the wooden box.
I made my way to the small pond just a few steps away, put my paper on the surface and slowly, the characters appeared.
大大吉 — Daidaikichi.
Very, very good luck.
Excellent. Apparently things were going to go quite well for me. About time.
There was, however, one slightly suspicious piece of financial advice. According to my fortune, trying too hard to save money now could somehow lead to financial problems later.
Well.. who am I to argue with the gods?
With my divine permission to spend money now officially secured, I headed back down towards the main street. It is a narrow road lined with souvenir shops, cafés and little stands selling snacks and refreshments, and after the rain it was absolutely packed. It reminded me a little of Kyoto during peak tourist season - that slow-moving river of people where you are technically walking but taking a painfully long time to get anywhere. After a short stop at a really cool T-shirt shop I slowly reached the bridge that connects the island to the mainland. I was ready for my last stop of the day.
Soon enough I found myself standing in front of a rather old-looking building, maybe eight stories high. There was a ramen shop on the ground floor, but I was trying to get to the fifth.
After taking the wrong stairway and ending up at a dead end, eventually I found the elevator, went up to the fifth floor and finally reached the place I had been looking for: Ponte Mare, a shisha café overlooking the sea.Walking into Ponte Mare, I was immediately greeted by a very, very chill atmosphere and a smiling staff member who told me I could sit anywhere I liked. Well, obviously I chose the sofa with the view of Enoshima.
I ordered a drink and a chocolate mint shisha, sank into the sofa and let myself relax for a while. From there I could look back towards the island I had spent the last few hours exploring, now sitting quietly across the water under a sky that still couldn’t quite decide what it wanted to do.
I went through some of the photos I had taken that day, wrote a little entry in my diary and, because apparently I am incapable of completely switching off, worked for just a tiny bit before finally deciding that enough was enough.
The rain came back, stopped, came back again and disappeared once more. I sat by the window listening to chilled Japanese pop, watching the weather move across the sea and occasionally looking over at Enoshima in the distance.
It was one of those moments where absolutely nothing special was happening, and that was exactly what made it so nice. I know I only explored a tiny part of Enoshima today. I did not get to see the view from the famous "Enoshima Candle" tower, now did I explore the caves on the further side of the island. But maybe it is okay to leave something for next time.
After about two hours, I finally decided it was time to head home. I stopped to buy some Enoshima pudding as a souvenir and the got another chance to ride the Enoden. I changed trains at Fujisawa, where I also discovered a tiny Enoden souvenir shop inside the station and then I headed back to Tokyo.
So that was my first visit to Enoshima. Rainy, sunny, crowded and very chill at the same time. I discovered some great places, exchanged words with some nice people and took a few pictures along the way.
Living in Japan for a long time, it is easy for everything around you to slowly become normal. Trains are just trains. Shrines are just shrines. A free Friday becomes a day to catch up on sleep, laundry, errands or work.
Sometimes I forget that there are still so many places here that I have never seen. So many little streets I have never walked down, cafés I have never accidentally discovered and views I have never stopped to look at. I should do this more often. And bring my camera along every time!
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