Fukuoka
1 December 2025
Okinawa has been one of my favorite travel destinations to date. Specifically, the Kerama Islands, which are off the coast of the island of Okinawa. The ocean is a beautiful blue, and below the surface, it is full of healthy coral and marine life. We visited one year and a week after our first visit, but this time we got unlucky with the weather.
Día 1
- Dazaifu Tenmagu Shrine
We got off the ferry at 7:30 am. We took a bus toward our hostel, which ended up getting packed. Trying to get off the bus was like watching a bad sitcom.
I was hurdling suitcases and banging my backpack on the backs of heads. I pressed through the bus crowd, but it took so long that the bus driver closed the door to drive away just as I was arriving at the front. I managed to signal to the driver who saw my desperate struggle and didn’t leave.
I had a ticket and wasn’t sure how to pay. He pushed a button and told me the fare, which I had to pay with cash. In the heat of the moment, I had not planned ahead for this. I, flustered, unzipped my Fanny pack and started digging around furiously looking for exact change.
I’d bought a bottle of water, which I’d placed inside along with other random items that stretched the bag and made it hard to access. I’d decided to place cash in the least accessible pocket. I started popping coins into the receptacle as quickly as I could pull them out, praying I could reach the total quickly as the rest of the bus sat and watched me.
After shakily putting a few coins in, I had 100¥ left to pay, and by some great luck or providence, I pulled out just what I needed – a shiny 100¥ coin. I moved quickly to slam the coin into the cursed money slot and leave. But in my hurried movements, I somehow lost my grip on the coin, and it flipped out of my hand and flew through the air.
Time slowed, and I watched in horror as it flew towards the driver. It hit his knee, fell to the ground, and rolled out of sight. I slowly looked up from the ground and into the bus driver’s eyes. I could barely meet his gaze. I could see he sighed from beneath his mask. I looked down, unsure if I should get down on my hands and knees to look for it or tell him to forget it and keep searching my bag. Both options seemed unfathomable.
He removed one of his white driver gloves and bent over to fish around for it. After a moment, he produced the coin, which he successfully deposited in the slot. I said, “Thank you.” he didn’t say anything, and I stepped off the bus.
We walked to the hostel, checked in, and left our bags. The hostel, called The Millennials Fukuoka, was nice and felt more like a hotel than a hostel. We decided on a shrine to visit about an hour from the hostel. We got food at a 7/11 nearby, then made our way to the station.
Dazaifu Tenmagu Shrine
We arrived at Dazaifu Station and walked up the short main road that leads to the Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine. The street is lined with shops selling all kinds of things.
We stopped in a few shops to browse, but didn’t buy anything. As you approach the shrine, you walk under three torii gates evenly spaced over the road.
The third and fourth are at the entrance.
The gardens surrounding the shrine are beautiful and well-kept. The first thing I noticed was the massive trees.
We crossed two arching bridges over a pond to enter the main garden.
The path is lined by massive trees and tōrō (stone lanterns). We walked under the fifth and final torii gate to arrive at the shrine’s exterior.
The main building was closed for construction, sadly. There is a massive museum beside the shrine, but that was also closed. We did the ritual washing of our hands and walked around the inner courtyard.
We walked around the grounds. The striking fall colors were on full display.
Chat GPT says this is a traditional lightning rod. I have seen it at more than one Shinto temple and always thought it was religious, not functional. Now we both know.
I watched a video that told me why Shinto temples will have paper zig zags fixed to rope as you’ll see below. They represent lightning bolts. They, along with the rope, have symbolic meaning, but more interesting is the more straightforward imagery. Traditionally, the lightning was placed at the shrine with a prayer for rain by the devotee. More rain meant a larger rice crop. Now you’ve learned two things today.
We diverted to a well-worn trail that led away from the temple. No one was on the winding trail, which disappeared into the trees. Jonny was nervous and began to tremble. I assured him we’d be okay and volunteered to go first. He reluctantly followed. What ensued may sound fanciful, but I assure you that everything I am about to write happened exactly as I describe.
We walked down the trail, and soon the hum of activity at the shrine quieted to silence. The hush of the forest settled upon us like a thing tangible. I was enjoying myself taking photos of the autumn leaves. I didn’t notice the silence until it grew heavier, pregnant with malice.
As we walked deeper into the forest, the silence became increasingly oppressive. The air felt thick and stifling. The trees that a moment ago looked pretty now looked gnarled, their dying leaves falling to the stagnant forest floor where they would lie until rotting into the soil where twisted roots reach grasping. I looked back at Jonny, his eyes were wide, pupils dilated, flight or fight response engaged. He looked like he had no intention of fighting. I motioned for him to follow me. I knew, even then, that the only way out was through. We walked on.
We approached a gradual hill and began to ascend the rise. The trail that was once broad and well-traveled had diminished to a narrow, unkempt path. Dry leaves cracked underfoot, disrupting what otherwise was utter silence. Slowly, I became aware of a sound. By the time I noticed, I wasn’t sure how long it had been there. The soft sound of a trumpet came from somewhere nearby. It was so random and so unlikely that it took a moment for me to process what I was hearing. The note was low and mournful. I stopped in my tracks. I looked back at Jonny, he had fallen behind. He was hyperventilating without trying to make any noise. I think he felt it before me, the feeling that we were being watched.
I coaxed Jonny into action, “I don’t know why, but someone is hiding nearby playing the trumpet. We have to keep going.” Jonny nodded feverishly, not looking at me. I’m not sure anything I said registered, but he followed. As we continued to walk, the solitary trumpet was joined by another, even closer, playing in a slightly different key. I increased my pace, and I heard Jonny’s shuffling gait increase pace to match mine. We continued up the hill, fast walking. The two trumpets were joined by a third, and then a fourth, and a fifth. They came from all sides of us until we were surrounded. I broke into a stumbling run without looking behind me. Jonny had to fend for himself now.
I nearly tripped on the uneven ground. When I looked down to catch myself, I realized we had lost the trail. As I picked myself up, something hit me in the back hard. For a frenzied moment, I thought I had been shot in the back with an arrow. Then, Jonny came flying over my head to land on the ground in front of me. In his panic, he had not seen my stumble and had tripped over me. Either from impact or animal terror, I believe he passed out for a moment. I shook his unconscious body, which had curled into the fetal position. Close to the ground, the crunching of the dead leaves became unbearably loud. The sound of the trumpets had grown in volume and was now deafening. There were so many, I could no longer say how many people, or where exactly they were located. The many notes coalesced into a haunting trumpet funeral dirge that reverberated through the forest.
Jonny woke up with a start. Gripped by fear, he began flailing wildly. An elbow caught me on the temple. I saw stars and lost my grip on his shoulder. His hysterical pummeling continued, blows rained on my head and shoulders. I hadn’t recovered from the first hit and couldn’t make enough distance between us. The next thing I knew, his hands were clasped around my neck. “You’re strangling me, you idiot!”, I thought. I couldn’t get the words out. My world tipped as I fell on my side. Jonny’s teeth were bared in a rictus grin like a chimp, his mouth frothing. My vision darkened. The red leaves around me blurred into a blood red that spread to cover my visual field.
I remember thinking, “I forgive you.” Right before the lights went out for good, a rhythmic crunching of leaves grew louder and materialized into a person. The pressure on my neck weakened. I gulped a breath of air, my vision steadied. A small Japanese grandma had walked up the trail behind us. Without a word, she walked right by the two of us on the ground. She walked up the hill and out of sight. Jonny released me, we both sat up.
From my spot on the ground, I noticed a box strapped to a tree. After a moment, I spotted another. The trumpet sounds were coming from them. Apparently, the shrine caretakers had hooked up a series of motion-detected speakers strapped to trees. I’m not sure why they did this, but it nearly cost me my life. I stood up and dusted myself off. “Sorry.” Jonny said. He sat still, staring at the ground. “I don’t forgive you.” I said.
As we reached the crest of the hill, we heard carnival music and heard children’s screams. We were too physically and emotionally spent to feel any alarm. It reminded me of Spirited Away. Looking down into the narrow valley below, we saw a small amusement park.
We followed the trail to a small shrine where some kind of service was taking place.
We took a different trail back down the hill to avoid the trumpets. We walked under many torri gates. We had both calmed down, so we could enjoy the splendid fall foliage. Large banana spiders (or some kind of orb weaver) spread through the canopy on huge webs.
The trail led us to a tunnel. We walked through it, then turned around and came back.
We walked back to the shrine and wandered around some more before leaving to find food.
Fukuoka is known for its tonkatsu ramen. We found a ramen place with great reviews right next to the train station called Oigen. We got seats right away as it was almost empty when we arrived. It was one of the best bowls of ramen I’ve ever had. The flavors were so delicate and complex. The pork was mouth-wateringly good. It’s so rare that I eat a near-perfect dish in America. In Japan, it can happen by selecting a restaurant at random. The ramen was amazing, and I later bought a keychain with a bowl of tonkatsu ramen to memorialize the experience.
We decided to head back to the city to check out a market we saw close to our hostel. On the train ride, the ramen hit my bowels like the explosion of flavors that it was. Sometimes the need to use the bathroom becomes so great that the outside world grows small and unimportant. The only thing that exists is the strength of your sphincter and resolve, and the distance to the nearest bathroom. Sometimes this battle rages so intensely that you don’t even have the mental energy to do the most basic things, like communicate. As a defense mechanism, you lose the power of speech as all of your strength is needed elsewhere. This is called “going nonverbal”.
This phenomenon is less rare than I’d like it to be. Jonny went nonverbal almost immediately at the beginning of our trip. We were at the Seattle airport, no matter what we did or said, we couldn’t get through to him. To him, we no longer existed. He stood in the elevator staring at the ground, eyes wide and scared. Anyways, I ended up making it to the bathroom.
We took the train back to town and wandered the city. I was looking to buy a watch, but didn’t find what I was looking for in my price range. While walking along a canal, we spotted a lone man wearing a nice suit being pushed by a boatman. They passed in silence. It was one of those moments that makes you feel like an extra in someone else’s movie.
I was surprised to find way more Christmas lights in Japan than I had expected. We saw plenty walking around. There was a huge display at Hakata Station.
We went into the mall over the station and found a restaurant where we ate tonkatsu for dinner.
I found an ice cream mochi place called Immone Hakata, where we got dessert. It was extremely good.
We walked back towards the hostel over a festive bridge.
We stumbled upon a Christmas night market.
There was a band playing called tight le fool. We sat at a picnic table and listened to them play a couple of songs. I liked them.
At the grocery store, I found one of my favorite sodas of all time: Iyoshi Cola. I bought way too many cans. It dawned on me afterwards that I had to drink them before boarding our flight to Tokyo the next morning.
We got back to the hostel where we stayed in neighboring pods.
Next time
On our next adventure, we go shopping in Tokyo.
ES 
EN