Where It All Began

There are journeys that return to us long after we come home.

Not only through the landscapes we remember, but through conversations that seemed ordinary at the time and moments whose meaning quietly deepens with distance.

One of those journeys began with a single night at Amanemu in Ise-Shima.

My plan was simple.

To spend quiet time in the thermal springs.

That alone felt like enough.

The drive from Kashikojima Station to Amanemu takes about twenty minutes.

As we set off, the conversation began with the day's weather.

"A sky like this is quite rare. Until yesterday, it had been cloudy."

Looking out at the clear blue sky, our conversation gradually moved from the weather to the nature and daily life of Ise-Shima.

It wasn't a description of sightseeing attractions.

It was someone sharing the landscapes, seasons, and rhythms of a place they knew by heart.

Just before we arrived, the staff member gently said,

"When you arrive, you might want to ask about the viewpoint."

It didn't feel like a recommendation.

It felt more like a quiet suggestion—one small way to experience the place a little more deeply.

After arriving, I did exactly that.

At the time, I had no idea that this small piece of guidance would shape the rest of my stay.

By the time I stepped out of the car, I already felt unexpectedly close to Ise-Shima, even though it was my first visit.

It wasn't simply because the scenery was beautiful.

Nor was it only because Amanemu was extraordinary.

Nor was it only because of meeting someone who knew the place so well.

It was the time spent there.

The place itself.

The landscape.

And the conversations with someone who called it home.

Together, they quietly brought Ise-Shima closer.

A journey does not end on the day we return home.

Each time we look back, it has the chance to reveal something new.

Looking back now, those twenty minutes from Kashikojima Station to Amanemu were never just a transfer.

They were the quiet beginning of a journey.