Sweet potatoes were brought to Satsuma in 17th century. Kagoshima is now the kingdom of Satsuma-imo.
(Kagoshima cookie wrapper)
I live in Kyushu, the southernmost major island of the Japanese archipelago. It lies a comfortable distance away from the locus of metropolitan Kantō-Kansai hegemony, and Japanese travel companies generally promote Kyushu as rural and relaxing, quirky, old-fashioned, and nostalgic. The land is rugged and beautiful, the food is hearty and rich, the liquor is strong and simple, and the hot spring resorts are picturesque and plentiful. It has a history and culture both distant and familiar. It is the furusato, and it is exotic Japan.
Last weekend, my girlfriend and I took a three-hour train ride to scenic Kagoshima prefecture, which is Kyushu, distilled.
Our far too short two-night stay began in Kirishima, a mountain town famous for its very, very sulfuric hot springs. How sulfuric, you ask? So sulfuric that everywhere you go, the air smells like eggs in various stages of boiling or rotting – which, I promise, is not as nauseating as it sounds. In fact, it was quite tolerable, and oddly invigorating. It’s a sort of atmospheric quirk that helps set Kirishima apart from normal life in Japan, a constant reminder that you’re situated atop a volatile juncture on the Pacific Ring of Fire. The springs there are so active and hot, you can hear them gurgling away through holes in the ground, and clouds of pure white steam periodically billow upwards out of unseen tears in the densely forested mountain terrain.
As is customary in Japanese resorts, our stay included complimentary dinner and breakfast. Both meals were delicious, and deliciously Japanese: fresh, seasonal, local, and so attractively arranged they could have been snapshots in a coffee table book. (Our friend Koizumi would have felt quite at home.) Continue reading ‘Satsuma Kaze さつま風’
