Today was an atypical day, but we did two unique and unforgettable things. The first was visiting the village that my great grandfather is from. All I knew was that he was from a place called Fukae in Fukuoka-ken (ken = prefecture). We weren’t sure exactly where it was, but we took the two and a half hour train to Fukuoka City in hopes that we could find it. Once at Hakata station, we learned that it could be reached via commuter train. So we hopped on a train going west. The crowded train emptied as we got further and further from the city. Our train eventually emerged from underground as we reached the suburbs. Soon enough we were rolling through the rural countryside, interrupted every few minutes by small towns. The ride was beautiful as it took us through rice paddies, along the ocean, and towards the mountains. All told, it was about an hour when we pulled into the single platform Chikuzen-Fukae station. It was a rural little train station with a town on one side and mountains on the other. Amazingly, there was a English-labeled map of the area at the station. Knowing that my great grandfather’s family had a fish auction-house, we decided to head towards the beach, starting at the end labeled “Fukae Fishing Port.”

Fukae is an old-looking town

but still looks typically Japanese

After about fifteen-minute walk, we reached the port, which sat at the mouth of river and the ocean. Boats sat in the shallow water and mud. Arriving at midday, I wouldn’t have expected a fishing port to be very busy, but even so, it didn’t look like much. Either way, I’ve been told that nothing remains of the auction-house of my grandfather’s stories. From the beach, we continued south along the beach. It was a gray overcast day, but still warm. The water was fairly warm as well. Clam and oyster shells littered the grey sand. Joylani and I were the only ones on the entire beach except for a couple of solitary old men on walks.

The first thing that came across my mind as we walked the beach was, “What a beautiful place.” Small islets were scattered about the horizon. Clear water softly lapped at the dark sand. Shells crunched under our steps and behind us, fronting the beach, were just trees with mountains rising behind those. I think the mountains were the most beautiful aspect of the place. Joylani said Fukae reminded her of Hawaii. For a moment, I wondered why my great grandfather had left such a beautiful place to settle in Oakland. But if Fukae’s present size is any indication of its past size, it’s clear that there wouldn’t be much opportunity for a second son. But I still had questions. Why hadn’t he simply migrated within Japan? Why hadn’t he settled in any of the regions he worked en route to California, like Hawaii or the Pacific Northwest. I guess some questions can never be answered, but after glimpsing quaint picturesque little Fukae, I’m sure there were many times in Oakland that he dreamed of beautiful Fukae.

Another thing I thought a lot about as we walked were all my grandfather’s stories that were set in Fukae. Some were passed down from his father, but he has a few from his own boyhood visits to Fukae in the 1920s. The first thing I’m gonna ask my grandfather the next time I see him is how the heck he got to Fukae back then and how long did it take! Even today, its remote, so I can only imagine the means and route for a 1920s journey from Oakland to Fukae. Whatever the answer, I did think that it was pretty amazing that I was walking on a beach that my grandfather had visited as a boy. And for that matter, it was pretty amazing that I was visiting one of my ancestral homes. It was definitely a unique experience and not something you get to do everyday.