Denim on Play: How to be beachy

Singapura, oh Singapura. Sunny island, set in the sea... How I used to love that song which was frequently practiced during my years in school for Singapore's National Day. But ironically, it is a description I least like to use when asked about the country I come from.

This is what an aerial view of a real island should look like I think!

Telling someone you grew up on an island conjures up the idyllic image of lovely palm trees, sand and sparkling cool waters. Perhaps if my neighborhood were in the East side, I could somewhat justify the generalization but alas, I grew up in the North. I was hidden thick in the concrete blocks of government housing and my favorite getaway was escaping into the artificially-cooled air of the shopping centers at Orchard Road (another misleading name for yet another concrete jungle). So despite growing up on an island, I was a city girl.

However, upon migrating to the intense Tokyo metropolis, I find myself gradually loving the city life less. Just walking through the streets of Shibuya at night tires me out. It is as if the bright shops, the dense volume of people, the roaring vehicles, the dusty pavements are all draining me of my energy. And it is in this madness, I find myself seeking a quiet vacation and dreaming of a beach holiday.

To the Japanese, the beach is something that defines summer here so no matter how scorching hot and humid it is, even the dirtiest beach is crowded and busy in the peak season. The Japanese are professionals at getting in order so no matter how crowded it can get, there is still a sense of calm at the scene. Something I find comfortable yet unsettling at the same time.

methinks our humble East Coast beats this dark littered sand at Kamakura

I can still recall my most bizarre scene encountered at the beach in Shirahama. From afar, one can spot neatly planted parasols one the sandy shores and in the sparkling water, huge colorful ring floats lined up and bobbing in rhythm to dull soft beats. It was a picture that presented life and a robotic tone at the same time. I was then told that the highlight of the day would be to go rent a float and get into the water to bob up and down with the rest of the crowd. Playing in a silent orchestra with a missing conductor. I was skeptical but I shrugged off my doubts and kept up with the Tanakas and went in.

Love the neat parasols -

perhaps we can rent them out at East Coast?!

To my surprise, after a few minutes of bobbing, I started to enjoy the motions. Every wave that took me up and down was like a gentle massage, rhythmically rubbing away the stress of the city, a numbing effect to ease the tensions. Gradually, it became fun, anticipating when the next wave would take me on another bob. Like how the Japanese hot spring is a simple yet therapeutic soak for the soul, the Japanese summer beach bob is the cooler version.

See in the background how not many people are really swimming?

Bob away bobbers!

For the curious, there aren't many beaches accessible to the Tokyo dwellers. Those closer to Tokyo are scenic beaches like the ones in Kamakura or Onjuku i.e. nice to look out and sit on the beach mat but not clean or safe enough to really get into the waters. However, they are good for surfers and you get the odd eye candy of lean, tanned, glistening bodies.

Takashi Sorimachi is who I dream of bumping into on the beach

but the local crop is usually a lot skinnier…

Another thing I've grown to love about the beach is the endless view of the water horizon. It makes me feel like I am at the edge of the world and gives a sense of how minute we are in the grand scheme of life. My husband once pointed out to me how one could see the very soft curve of the horizon if one observes closely. Just how often do we remember that the world is not flat?

Oh, how a subtle curve could be so beautiful

and yet, so hard to capture..

My other favorite discovery here was the beauty of the Okinawan islands. The clear turquoise waters are gems themselves but what I had enjoyed the most was the wonderful hospitality and culture of the islanders. They have such a kind and friendly demeanor about them and even their songs have such a happy lilt to it that I can easily envision retiring comfortably there someday.

Wouldn’t you like to lie here all day?

Or I should start learning to play the sanshin (like a banjo)

if I need a skill to retire with in Okinawa..

So consider me a reformed islander as I now try to play catch up on the time wasted in the concrete jungle. As for my next vacation? The artful island of Naoshima!