Islands. Benjamin Button

It's interesting sometimes how a trivial thing, having no weight whatsoever, later turns out to be the link that spawned an entire chain of events. What could be unexpected when the route is drawn with a red line across the green conventions of a map? Traced, traveled, tested. Few know this, but a new island nation has appeared in the Japanese archipelago, a constitutional monarchy, and I gave it a catchy, resonant name — Libin.

I'm establishing diplomatic ties with China to get support in case of Japanese aggressor encroachment, and rhyming lines for the anthem. But seriously, I'm on Shodoshima island, a blue dot on GPS vaguely resembling my unshaven self, diligently doing homework — following the route. A ferry runs here from Himeji port for 1400 samurai coins, if with a bicycle. There are no cars here (almost), no people (almost), fishing boats drift on the horizon, and behind a rock covered with tropical growth, either a parrot, or a monkey, or maybe just a common rooster is screaming. Almost means there are people, but few of them, and you can find such secluded little beaches on the island that you'll feel like you're on a deserted island.

On one such sandy and cozy beach I've been lounging for the second day and wouldn't be lounging if a month ago, somewhere near Sendai, a little girl hadn't jumped out onto the sidewalk, making me brake sharply, drop my bike and slightly bend the rear disc. The uneven disc wore down the rear brake pads more than usual, but let's move to the past, not so distant: on Friday evening, three days ago, I forgot my camera in the bike shop. The seller spent a long time fiddling with the rear brake and finished by closing time (8 pm). Usually I set up my tent by six while it's light, but at eight it won't get darker or lighter, so I decided to ride 45 km to Himeji — a major point on the route, a castle city, a port city, from where a punctual ferry goes to Shodoshima island. And here I am racing at full steam, having deliberately overeaten, it's half past nine, the shop that delayed me far behind.

I climb the bridge over the railway and see: car headlights at the intersection in four rows, standing strictly in line, behind them a skyscraper glows golden. Should capture the moment. With a habitual movement I open my bag, stick my hand in and feel air where the camera has been day after day. Its life flashed before my eyes: there it is, my dear one standing in the shop window, here I am with it in Wakkanai, here I'm photographing a hundred-meter waterfall, the touching gallery ended with a table in the bike shop. The time, as I already said, was late, the shop was closed, but with warm hope that MAYBE the shop staff is celebrating someone's birthday today, marking the end of a successful week, or simply stayed to sleep on the shelf with new tires, using a phone as a pillow. I found the number on Google, no one picked up, moreover, the website said the shop doesn't work on weekends, which meant my camera was imprisoned there for two days and I, having no plan B, would have to hang around the area all this time to come to them Monday morning after bumming around for two days. Oh yeah... this particular Monday is also a holiday. Overwhelmed with emotions, I moved five kilometers further from the shop to the city of Kobe.

You won't see a single photo from this million-strong city, although it clearly deserves it. Kobe has sea, port, beach, the most beautiful park, the world's longest suspension bridge, rises up steep roads and cuts into the mountain. In the evening on this mountain you can see a huge neon sign "Kobe." The city is beautiful from top to bottom, which can't be said about the station-city, cesspool-city Osaka (about it in another post). By the way, on the mountain where I went to spend the night on the first day, I encountered a wild boar, who wasn't destined to show off in this post with the caption "Liked the city of Kobe, despite the fact that part of its population are big pigs." However, you wouldn't have seen it anyway, because if not for the camera, I would have passed the city along the coast without stopping, following the set route. The next morning I climbed even higher to a park with a city view. Here's this view, taken three days later (couldn't resist, came back to photograph as soon as I got my camera back).

There's also a Chinatown here, but what am I telling you, I spent both days in seal mode on the city (empty) beach. Finished reading "Captain Blood's Odyssey," started "Lolita," got sunburned on my back, stomach, peeled in places, ate little, slept a lot and pondered. Monday morning, with treacherous hope that the guys were forced to work on the holiday, I called the shop. "Hello, I was repairing my DISC at your place and forgot my CAMERA." — I articulated the highlighted keywords like a speech therapist, appealing to my interlocutor's associative memory. The keyword search produced a result: "Sorry, we don't need a camera." — When will you learn English?!

But the point is they were at the shop. I got my camera back, having traveled 20km there and the same back, reached the biggest bridge that had been fading in the haze on the horizon for two days, and spent the night somewhere around there.

On the morning of the day when according to plan I should have been in Takamatsu city on Shikoku island, I was still brushing my teeth on Honshu and there was no way I could catch up by evening. Meanwhile, the host who was waiting for me today at five pm regretfully said on the phone that he had other plans tomorrow — in short, everything was changing on the go. It's silly to blame everything on the girl from Sendai, rather my forgetfulness is to blame, and there's nothing to blame really, it wasn't worse, it was better, or just different. If there hadn't been the girl, there wouldn't have been the brake incident that wore down to the core, I wouldn't have ended up in this shop and wouldn't have forgotten the camera and wouldn't have been late to the host, would have ended up on Shodoshima island, but not with such an abundance of time, but everything happened exactly as the voiceover in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" summed up. My story may not be as dramatic, but the cause-and-effect relationship in it is also interesting.

Anyway, I woke up in the morning on the beach of Shodoshima island. A local old man brought me breakfast (just like that): a hard-boiled egg, a pancake with sweet red beans and a big slice of white bread, slightly toasted over a fire to a dry crust. Besides me, there was no one on the beach.

If not for some signs of civilization like vending machines with cola, cars and road signs, this island would easily pass for the pirate Tortuga. However, as I already said, despite the cities, if you want, it's very easy to find quiet secluded beaches here, land with your Arabella and a bottle of rum and spend fabulous days.

Those who read will notice that the style has changed, it's all Nabokov.