SADOGASHIMAHOMESTAY
JACK YOUNGINTRODUCTIONS‘Sudden’ is the word that came to mind, sitting
in a beach hut in Chiba, as my homestay on theisland of Sado became ever more visible on thehorizon. Of course it would soon be replaced by all
manner of praise that I couldn’t hope to convey sosuccinctly in English, let alone in Japanese, butthat was yet to come. One moment I was holding
on to the sweltering freedom of August after ourclasses at Waseda came to an end and the next I
found myself slowly crawling across the sea ofJapan aboard a quite empty and sluggish car ferry,wondering what my routine may soon look like.
As I sat on the floor of the swaying ship,Okaasan, the mother of the Toyoki family, and I
messaged one another to arrange our meeting at
Ryotsu Port, explaining how to find each other once
I set foot on the shores of my temporary island
home. Of course identifying the foreign stranger
wearing tan shorts and a red backpack was almost
redundant considering I towered over the handful ofother passengers around me. It was at this point thatmy homestay was no longer ‘rapidly approaching’
but had in fact ‘suddenly arrived’. I became acutely
aware of this fact as I was welcomed into one ofJapan’s almost comically boxlike cars, the sun
setting behind Sado’s twin mountain ranges and mymind frantically searching for any broken fragmentsof Japanese that I could muster. Something is always
forgotten when packing it seems.
Introductions are a difficult business, languages
aside. Full of desperate attempts to control how you
are perceived and to perceive the other clearly.
However, to open up your home and time to astranger you had only talked to briefly over thecourse of a few emails, speaks more clearly to thekindness of the Toyoki family than my nerve-addled
brain could possibly translate from words alone on
the long drive to their home.
As we drove, struggling to interpret one
another’s introductions, the island around us slipped
into darkness, revealing the same, clear, star-filled
skies as Chiba.

LIFE IN EXILE
Sado island’s renown stems from a host of
historical, cultural and natural attributes, all ofwhich I would come to discover over the course ofthe month. Among them, however, the island’s richhistory as a home for centuries of political exiles
became immediately relevant as I was welcomed
into the beautiful Toyoki family home, built byOtousan, the father of the family himself. With
grand exposed wooden beams, wide rooms linedwith tatami floors and a garden filled with various
rows of vegetables, the home could not have been
more different to my tiny, one room apartment inTokyo. My month of exile, it would seem, was tobe spent in beautiful surroundings with the mostwonderful and welcoming of hosts.
That evening, the first of many tables full ofdelicious dishes was laid before us and I wasasked to drink with Otousan, a nightly event thatwould become a staple of my homestay routine. It
was hard to convey my gratitude at the time,
though a large bottle of gifted whisky seemed tobreak through the language barriers with relativeease. It was at these dinners that I would slowly
come to understand the family that had welcomed
me into their home. Otousan, a carpenter, would
leave early most mornings to work whilst I could
accompany Okaasan in the daytime and in theevenings we could cook and eat together.
I am a creature of habit. I am at my most
comfortable when following a routine or scheduleand though my language skills may not have been
sufficiently prepared, when asked to provide a list ofactivities I might be interested in undertaking whilestaying on Sado island, I felt completely at home andpromptly produced 3 pages of bullet pointed
temples, hikes and museums that had caught my eye
in the various guide books and pamphlets I had been
given. This list would not only expand over thecourse of my homestay but form the backbone of mytime there. I could not have expected that each andevery item of that itinerary would be crossed off anddated as we explored the island together.

BY LAND AND BY SEA
As an island, the landscape and culture of
Sado has been undoubtedly shaped by its
relationship to both land and sea. While it isn’t
possible here to detail all of the 50+ activities andlocations we explored, it would be remiss of me toexclude some of the more defining locales thatsolidified Sado as my favourite place in Japan.
An island of gold, uniquely shaped like a bolt oflightning in the Japanese sea, Sado’s culture diverges
from that of the mainland in similarly interesting
intervals. From the 17th century, vast quantities ofgold and silver were found on the island and rapidly
elevated its significance from a land of exile to theshogunate’s largest rare mineral mine. Okaasan and I
explored the mountains and rivers that once saw
thousands of men toiling beneath the earth, stoppingat one such area to pan for gold, though the successof our search must remain a mystery.
Such an explosion of wealth and industry saw
the population of the island increase and with it
unique crafts and cultures began to thrive. From theheart of the island, the thunderous beating of world
renowned taiko drummers could be heard, though
on one particular Sunday their rhythm may havebeen slightly interrupted by myself and members of
the Toyoki family trying our hand at the immense
percussion instruments.
Along the coastlines, particularly around thearea of Ogi port, round barrel-like craft can be seen
bobbing by the rocky shores with a surprising
amount of control and grace. Captained by elderly
ladies standing with a singular paddle, the craft
originally allowed them to collect turban shells,
abalone, and seaweed from the rocky volcanic inlets
that frame the island. Nowadays, they primarily
attract tourists curious enough to try their hand atcontrolling such craft. With my legs tightly folded
into the shallow barrel, we spun and drifted withnone of the poise of their previous pilots. Whether it
was from the peaks of Sado’s ancient cedar
mountain forests or kayaks at sunset, Sado was truly
spectacular by both land and by sea.

INEKARI
The inverse of ‘all work and no play…’ seemedincreasingly true as my days were spent
comfortably exploring abandoned mountaintemples, noh stages that had rested in bamboo
groves for hundreds of years and ancient rocky
outcroppings drenched in local folklore. The guiltof such ample provision by my hosts was
thankfully assuaged somewhat as I was able tolend a hand at meal times, learning the simple
pleasures of making onigiri and tempura andimparting my own limited knowledge on the art of
top notch tiramisù. The kitchen became home to
many of my fondest memories of the homestay,each evening spent in limited comprehension but atrue feast in every other sense and when it cametime to leave I was gifted my most cherishedpossession I have received since moving to Japana year ago, a traditional half apron or maekake
used by artists, labourers and chefs for hundredsof years, decorated in the wonderful handwritten
messages of the Toyoki family.

It wasn’t just in the kitchen that I was able tolend a hand however. Early mornings preparing for along weekend and the arrival of 10 or so family
friends saw us rising with the sun, crammed into thefront of a kei truck as it wound its way up to thefamily rice fields, where Otousan and I would cut
down and split 6m high bamboo trunks ready fornagashi somen later that day.
It was at these hillside rice paddies that myhomestay would prove most rewarding. The ‘inekari’or rice harvest was to be done in a single day, mymorning spent making onigiri for the 6 of us and therest of the day spent, feet wrapped in plastic bags,
an off the waist boiler suit completing the rest of therustic look as we hacked away with our sickles
while Otousan drove the harvester in dizzying rings
through the centre of the fields. After hauling morethan 30 large sacks of rice into the back of the truck
and returning home, the dinner that night tasted all
the better for knowing I had played some small partin the meals to come.

A FOOL COMES BACKIntroductions are a difficult business. But thenagain, so is the summation of a month that seems
all too surreal into a handful of pages, these same
number of pages that were filled with every
curiosity we came across and hobby that we tried
our hand at. Of course so much has been omitted
or mentioned only in passing and to do so is adisservice to the experiences I shared with theToyoki family, though I am comfortable in theknowledge that this need not be the end of myconnection to Sadogashima.
My final day of the homestay was spent inNiigata with Okaasan, having taken the ferry
together to visit a family friend and new friend ofmine. Niigata, the capital of Sado’s prefecture, isonly two hours away from Tokyo by shinkansen, soclose in fact that standing in the train station it felt
less appropriate to use a goodbye with suchlong-term connotations as ‘sayonara’, instead a
simple ‘well, see you next time’ would do. Truth betold, writing this in my tiny cave of an apartment inTokyo, I am reassured that I will meet my hosts
again at Christmas and have stayed in regularcontact with the family and friends since leaving.
I will end this rambling grand tour of Japan’s
golden island and the connections I have made therewith a simple message, written on my maekake by
Otousan the day before I left and that has stuck withme since.

「佐渡へ来ぬバカ二度来るバカ」
だけど又来て下さい。
[A fool doesn’t come to Sadogashima, a foolcomes twice] but please come again.
- Otousan
I certainly hope to be a fool.