From Shonan to Okinawa 5: A Sense of Déjà Vu in the Town of Ishikawa

Distant memories awakened by a port town

When I first drove through the town of Ishikawa, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

There are hills. There is a port. There is an old shopping street. There is American base culture. Intricate alleys. Slightly worn-out buildings.

As I gazed at that scenery, I was reminded of Nishi-ku, Yokohama, where I was born and raised over half a century ago.

It was a Yokohama from back when there were still U.S. military residences in Honmoku and 'Minato Mirai' did not yet exist.
The area around Yokohama Station was also before it was developed like it is today.

Of course, the scale and culture of Yokohama and Ishikawa are different.
Even so, the texture that drifts throughout the town is somewhat similar.

I realized it after living here.
The port faces east.

Yokohama and Ishikawa have the same town orientation.

When you look out to the open sea from the port, the Pacific Ocean stretches out endlessly beyond it.

Perhaps because of that, the angle of the light illuminating the town in the morning and evening, and even the moist brightness returning from the sea, feels somewhat nostalgic.

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Port towns have a unique atmosphere

A port town is not just a town near the sea.

It is a place on the boundary between land and sea.
Settlement and drifting. Daily life and travel. It exists between them.

The presence of 'those who leave' and 'those who return' drifts somewhere in the town.

That is why port towns have a somewhat restless buzz.
Culture and people flow in from the outside, and then someone leaves again.

When you listen closely to the rustle of the sea breeze, memories of distant foreign port towns—like island songs, and from deeper within, enka, blues, fado, and tango—faintly rise up.

The lingering echoes of an era when ships once carried people and goods, connecting islands, still remain somewhere.

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The beauty of worn-out scenery

Slightly worn-out buildings suit a port town well.

Rather than brand-new buildings, signs faded by the sea breeze and warehouses with peeling paint blend more naturally into the town's landscape.

The sea breeze damages everything little by little.
However, there is a mysterious charm to the way it wears down.

Old concrete buildings
Light trucks for work
Breakwaters
Cats living in the port
Old diners
Rusty iron

The time of human activity is quietly soaked into such scenery.

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Sea breeze flows into the heart

When I stand at the port, my heart strangely becomes calm.

A breakwater stretching out thinly.
A ship anchored all alone.
The empty sea spreading out beyond the quay.
A wide space where only the wind blows through.

The empty, vacant space of the port has a unique utility.

That excessively wide void quietly settles my noisy heart.

Beyond the quay, there is nothing but the sky and the sea spreading out.
Yet, there is an inexplicable sense of liberation there.

It is as if the sea breeze flows deep into my heart, quietly washing away the noise of accumulated thoughts.

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Evening in a port town

And today, the sun sets again.

In both Ishikawa and Yokohama, the setting sun illuminates the town from the side.

A ship that has finished its work.
A crane slowly rusting.
Reflections on the sea surface.
A breakwater dyed red.
On the opposite shore, lights begin to flicker on, one by one.

Watching that scenery, I suddenly think.

Someone must have returned from somewhere again today.

Such a presence quietly drifts throughout the entire town.

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A place where time accumulates

A port town might not be a place that moves in a straight line toward the future, but rather a place where time accumulates.

Old memories
Travelers
Labor
Foreign culture
Partings
Returns

These slowly mix in the sea breeze, becoming the unique scent that only a port town possesses.

I believe that the déjà vu I felt while driving through the town of Ishikawa was surely the scent emitted by that 'accumulation of time'.

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