A Kansai Railway Mini Adventure: Encountering Old Japan and Its Mountains and Seas

Japan’s Mie Prefecture has long been valued for its natural beauty and abundant harvests brought by its mountains and sea, and during the Edo period, it was the most visited travel destination in Japan. Now, located midway between Chubu Centrair International Airport and Kansai International Airport, it is easily accessible from either airport. Coupled with the Kintetsu Railway’s wide-area pass tailored for foreign tourists, you can freely ride the Kintetsu lines for five days to explore Mie Prefecture, connecting nearby cities such as Nagoya, Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka, adding even more flexibility to the entire Mie journey. The group thus set out from Osaka on a Kinki railway trip, with the train tracing our footsteps into a long, winding ribbon across the rich lands of central Japan. Autumn leaves, mountain winds, and ocean flavors enriched the face of the season, and filled the travelers’ souls and senses.

 

The architecture of Ise Grand Shrine is truly unique, resembling a high-floor granary—the oldest style of Japanese building since the Yayoi period. The grounds house 14 auxiliary shrines, as well as 109 subordinate and minor shrines, collectively referred to by locals as “the shrines.” Exiting the station, I strolled to the Outer Shrine, dedicated to Toyouke no Omikami, the deity of clothing, food, and shelter. Coincidentally, I encountered the “Daily Morning and Evening Great Sacred Food Offering Ceremony.” Though I didn’t understand the ritual procedures, from the solemn expressions and movements of the priests clad in Heian-period attire, I could almost feel the greatness of an ancient culture being passed down. Following an ancient path, I continued along the white-sand-covered approach through the forest, crossed over the Uji Bridge—spanning the bridge between the human world and the sacred realm—and ventured through the dense Forest of the Shrines. In the distance, I spotted the golden shimmer of the Inner Shrine’s main hall roof under the sunlight, resplendent yet solemn. The Inner Shrine enshrines Amaterasu Omikami, Japan’s supreme deity. Unfortunately, aside from the Imperial Family, all visitors can only worship from the stone steps in front of the shrine gate, peering through the curtain. Yet this only adds to the solemnity and mystique of Ise Grand Shrine.

Leaving Ise Grand Shrine, I arrived in Toba. Toba is home to the world’s first bay where cultured pearls were successfully raised, and the man behind this groundbreaking technology was “Kokichi Mikimoto,” the founder of the famous pearl brand MIKIMOTO. On Mikimoto Pearl Island in Toba, you can learn about Mikimoto’s legendary story and the techniques of pearl cultivation, and even try your hand at selecting pearls yourself. But my true purpose on this trip wasn’t these pristine, beautiful pearls.

 

It is said that there were women who always wore white cotton garments, specialized in diving for abalone and pearls, and who made whistling-like sounds when surfacing for air—these were the “ama divers.” Once recognized as an intangible cultural heritage of the world, ama divers can be seen performing live on Mikimoto Pearl Island; at fixed times each day, they dive into the sea in front of visitors, recreating their traditional work. Chatting with the ama divers, I saw a sincerity and bright smile that shone even more brilliantly than pearls, mixed with pride and genuine joy.

Taking the Kinki Railway back again, I first headed to Nara to enjoy the autumn foliage. Outside Kintetsu Nara Station, a small eatery named “DRINK DRANK” deeply captivated my companion and me with its forest-like ambiance. The seasonal menu, composed of locally sourced vegetables, featured sweet fruits and vegetables paired with shrimp and curry chicken, making the taste buds feel as if bathed in fresh country air. Renting a city bike, I pedaled briskly through the alleys of Nara Town and various old shops. Places essential for experiencing traditional Nara spirit included “Harushika,” known for brewing premium sake, and “Okashino-Sushi,” a century-old shop selling wagashi and manju. Raising my eyes occasionally, the late autumn sunlight filtered through the bright red leaves, reflecting tiny glimmers—dazzling, yet very simple—just like the feeling Nara gives. Behind its once-flourishing past lies a landscape of simplicity.