Hakone to Naoshima – A Travel Day and a Dream Come True

Today was always going to be tough. Even when AI was reading through our itinerary, he/she/they/them seemed concerned about the number of connections we had planned. Not exactly reassuring when even AI thinks you might be pushing your luck!

It was an early start and the sun was shining, but unfortunately John hadn't slept for two nights in a row. A day of multiple train connections was going to be a stretch for the well-rested, let alone grumpy old Hector.

Our taxi was booked for 7am and, tick, the driver was ready and waiting. A 40-minute drive to Odawara Station, where we were going to catch our first-ever bullet train, the famous Shinkansen.

John had done a lot of research and had specifically linked our Suica cards to the Shinkansen booking so that everything would work smoothly. Or so we thought.

We arrived with plenty of time to spare and decided to have breakfast at Starbucks to kill some time. We then headed towards the platform with 30 minutes to go before our train departed. Plenty of time, right?

Oh my goodness, the stress levels went through the roof!

John's Suica card wouldn't work, and the man at the ticket gates told us we needed a QR code. We tried the ticket machine, but couldn't work it out, so I went onto my phone to find the booking.

Except my phone wouldn't connect to the internet.

What on earth was going on?

Eventually I realised I'd left my VPN switched on from trying to watch the football on Stan Sport, and of course that was interfering with everything. But it took a while to troubleshoot, and meanwhile the clock was ticking.

We were frantically trying ticket machines, looking for QR codes and getting increasingly stressed. Eventually I sorted out my internet, logged into the app and found the QR code.

Hooray, John was through!

But then I couldn't get back to the next ticket.

Far out!

By now my heart was racing, the train was getting closer to departure and John had run ahead to work out where we needed to go next. Meanwhile, I was still on the wrong side of the ticket gates.

Fortunately, a lovely Japanese gentleman came to my rescue and helped me through, and I was finally reunited with my loving husband, who, I have to say, had only had one grumpy moment throughout the whole ordeal.

We made it to the platform, but then had to work out which train was ours and where to stand. Another lovely young gentleman helped us. He was coming to Melbourne next year to attend college, so we had a nice little chat about Australia.

Phew! We were on the train.

Our first Shinkansen!

And as we sped towards Nagoya, there she was again, Fuji-san, sitting so proudly on the horizon and looking absolutely beautiful in the sunshine.

All that cloud and miserable weather we'd had over the past two days had apparently delivered another 20cm of snow, and she was now wearing a gorgeous fresh white coat.

After spending the last two days in Hakone barely able to see in front of us, let alone see the mountain, there she was in all her glory.

What a lovely farewell from Fuji-san!

For those who don't know, the Shinkansen is Japan's famous high-speed railway, which started operating in 1964. The trains on this route can travel at speeds of up to 285 km/h, and they're known for being incredibly punctual.

All very impressive, but at that moment I was just happy to be sitting down!

Our first train took us to Nagoya, where we had to change to another Shinkansen to Okayama. From there, another train or bus to Uno Port, followed by a ferry across to Naoshima.

And of course there was the small matter of the ferry timetable, which had a gap in the middle of the afternoon. Miss the right connection and we'd be hanging around for ages.

I have made plenty of fun of John's recalculating over the past few days, but I do have to give him credit. The logistics of today took an enormous amount of research and planning, and when you're the one doing all the organising, there really is only a downside. If it all works, everyone assumes it was easy, and if something goes wrong, guess whose fault it is!

And all this on two nights without sleep.

Poor Johnny Boy.

But we did it! All the trains, all the connections and finally the ferry. We made it to Naoshima.

Naoshima – Japan's Art Island

Naoshima is a small island in Japan's Seto Inland Sea, which lies between the main islands of Honshu, Shikoku and Kyushu. The sea is dotted with hundreds of islands, and the scenery is just beautiful, with little fishing villages, wooded hills and sheltered bays.

Naoshima has become famous for its contemporary art, architecture and outdoor sculptures. The transformation began in the late 1980s, when the Benesse organisation started developing the idea of bringing art and architecture into the island's natural environment.

Rather than simply building a museum, the idea was to make the whole island part of the experience, with museums, galleries, sculptures along the coastline and artworks incorporated into old village houses.

And the buildings themselves are just as interesting as the art.

Which brings me to where we're staying.

Benesse House – John's Bucket List

Benesse House has been on John's bucket list for as long as I can remember.

It's a rather extraordinary place, part hotel and part contemporary art museum, designed by the famous Japanese architect Tadao Ando. You might remember we visited his 21_21 Design Sight building in Tokyo a few days ago.

Benesse House opened in 1992 and was designed to bring art, architecture and nature together. There are four buildings, Museum, Oval, Park and Beach, all designed by Ando and positioned to make the most of the surrounding landscape and views across the Seto Inland Sea.

Ando is known for his use of exposed concrete, natural light and simple shapes, and the buildings seem to blend into the landscape rather than dominate it.

There are artworks throughout the complex and sculptures scattered along the beach and gardens. It's quite something.

But getting a room here was almost as challenging as getting here!

You can only book 180 days in advance, and during the popular seasons the rooms apparently sell out in seconds.

So John, being John, worked out exactly when bookings would open and set his alarm for 2am to try to secure a room.

Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, we missed out.

I knew how much he wanted to come here, and particularly to stay at Benesse House, so I saved the booking page as a bookmark and made a habit of checking it every evening to see if anything had become available.

Night after night, I'd refresh the page.

Nothing.

Then one lucky evening, there it was. A suite was available!

A little more expensive than we'd planned, but when something has been on your bucket list for years, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet.

So I booked it, and here we are!

Living the Dream

And as I write this, we're ensconced in Benesse House, watching the sun set over the Seto Inland Sea.

We've had a gorgeous stroll down to the beach, looking at the outdoor sculptures, and even managed a little shopping.

The contrast to this morning couldn't be greater. From frantic ticket gates, QR codes and train connections to sitting here watching the sun go down over the water.

We've had our Earl Grey tea and are now sipping sake, just taking it all in.

Tonight we're dining at the Beach restaurant, which I suspect we'll get to know rather well over the next few days, as it's the only à la carte restaurant here.

But who's complaining?

I have to say, John deserves a lot of credit for today. The planning and logistics were quite something, particularly on so little sleep, and apart from one little grumpy moment, he held it together remarkably well.

And now we're finally here, somewhere he's wanted to visit for years.

Sipping sake, watching the sunset and just living the dream.

Not a bad ending to what was always going to be a difficult travel day.

Well done, Thommo's Tours!

Naoshima – Art, Architecture and a Good Night's Sleep

Today was a day for a slow start, particularly as John had finally managed to get a decent night's sleep. I'd dosed him up with Restavit the night before, hoping it would do the trick after two nights of virtually no sleep, and thankfully it worked.

This reminds me of a funny story which I have to share.

Restavit is a sedating antihistamine that Jude recommended as a useful little travelling companion, particularly for sleeping on flights and adjusting to different time zones. I always have some with me when we travel. The tablets are white and round and look remarkably like paracetamol, which brings me to the story.

We were in Perth visiting family, and one afternoon John had a headache, so at about 2pm he decided to take a couple of tablets and have a lie-down. We were due out for an early BBQ at some friends' house later that afternoon.

Well, John slept and slept.

Every half an hour or so I'd go in to check on him, and each time he'd manage to prise one eye open and say, "Geez, Pet, I have no idea what's wrong with me. I just can't keep my eyes open."

I thought perhaps he was coming down with something, and as sleep is usually the best cure, I left him to it.

Another half an hour passed, and I went to check again.

Same response.

"Geez, Pet, I don't know what's wrong. I just can't keep my eyes open. But my headache's gone!"

Well, that was something, I suppose.

Eventually he had to drag himself out of bed and have a cold shower so we could get to the BBQ.

It wasn't until a few days later that I noticed two Restavit tablets were missing. I asked John if he'd taken them.

"Yes, I took the paracetamol the other day when I had a headache."

Ahhh. Mystery solved!

No wonder the poor man couldn't keep his eyes open. He'd taken two sleeping tablets at two o'clock in the afternoon!

Anyway, same drug, different place, same effect. A great night's kip and a slow start to our first full day on Naoshima.

We wandered down to breakfast, which is in a different building from where we're staying. Breakfast was good, and then we were off to begin our art island experience.

Our first stop was the Chichu Art Museum.

The museum was designed by Tadao Ando and opened in 2004. What's particularly interesting is that most of it is built underground so that it doesn't spoil the natural landscape of the island. Chichu actually means "in the earth", which makes sense when you see it.

Despite being underground, the galleries are illuminated by natural light, and the changing light throughout the day is part of the experience. There are only three artists represented in the permanent collection: Claude Monet, James Turrell and Walter De Maria.

The building itself is an artwork, with Ando's signature concrete walls, geometric shapes and clever use of light.

All very impressive, although I have to say the organisation was a little disappointing.

There was an awful lot of queueing, which seemed rather unnecessary considering that tickets are sold for specific entry times and the museum was sold out. You'd think they'd have the numbers worked out, particularly here in Japan, where everything generally runs like clockwork.

But then again, if there's a queue, people do seem to feel obliged to join it!

Our first stop was the Monet gallery.

Off with our shoes and on with the slippers before entering a beautiful white room displaying five of Monet's famous Water Lilies paintings.

The room is quite extraordinary, with walls finished in white plaster and a floor made from around 700,000 tiny pieces of white Carrara marble, each approximately 2cm square and individually laid by hand.

Apparently, the marble was chosen to help diffuse the natural light and create the right atmosphere for the paintings, and I suppose that's also why we had to take our shoes off.

Personally, I thought it was all a bit over the top!

And John, who had walked across the entire floor, hadn't even noticed it.

When I mentioned the beautiful marble mosaic, he looked at me and said, "What marble mosaic?"

Honestly, sometimes I do wonder what he actually looks at!

Don't get me wrong, the five Monet paintings were beautiful, but we've been rather spoilt by having visited the Musée de l'Orangerie in Paris, where Monet's enormous Water Lilies paintings fill two oval rooms, wrapping right around the walls. It really is a spectacular experience, so perhaps our expectations were a little high!

Next was another queue, this time to see a James Turrell installation called Open Field.

Again, off with the shoes and up the stairs into a white space. In front of us was what looked like a solid wall of a single colour, but as we walked towards it, we realised it wasn't a wall at all. It was a space filled with light.

The whole room was bathed in one colour, with no obvious edges or corners, and it literally felt as though we were walking into the clouds. Your eyes couldn't work out where the walls ended or how far away anything was. Such a clever illusion, created simply with monochromatic light.

We both love James Turrell's work, and this was another great example of how he plays tricks with your perception. We've seen his work at MONA in Hobart, so we were familiar with the concept, but it's still quite extraordinary to experience.

Our final artist was Walter De Maria, whose installation, Time/Timeless/No Time, occupies an enormous concrete space designed specifically for the work.

There is a huge polished granite sphere, 2.2 metres in diameter, sitting partway up a series of broad concrete steps, with 27 gold-covered wooden sculptures arranged around the room.

It's really quite a striking sight, with all these geometric shapes positioned so precisely against the bare concrete walls. The whole room is part of the artwork, rather than simply somewhere to display it.

Natural light comes in through skylights, so apparently the shadows and reflections change throughout the day. The sphere itself weighs more than 15 tonnes, which is rather extraordinary when you see where it's sitting!

I have to say, I found the combination of the granite sphere, the gold sculptures and Ando's concrete architecture more interesting than I expected. It's such a simple idea, but the scale of it all makes quite an impression.

Unfortunately, photography isn't allowed inside the museum, so I couldn't take any pictures. I've found a few photographs to give you an idea of what we saw.

So far, a fascinating building, some beautiful art and rather too much queueing. I'm beginning to think we've been spoilt by some of the wonderful exhibitions we've seen on our travels!

Lee Ufan Museum – Rocks, Steel and a Bit of Philosophy

Next was a short 500-metre walk down the hill to the Lee Ufan Museum, another building designed by Tadao Ando. This one opened in 2010 and, like the Chichu Art Museum, is partly built underground, with the concrete structure blending into the surrounding landscape.

Lee Ufan is a Korean-born artist who has spent much of his life working in Japan. He's one of the leading figures of an art movement called Mono-ha, which means the School of Things, and emerged in Japan in the late 1960s.

His work is quite unusual, with enormous natural boulders positioned alongside large sheets of steel, sometimes resting against each other and sometimes simply sitting apart in an otherwise empty space.

The idea, apparently, is to explore the relationship between nature and things made by humans. The rocks represent nature, something that has existed for millions of years, while the steel represents something that has been manufactured. He deliberately does very little to the materials, allowing their shapes, textures and the space around them to become part of the artwork.

It's all very minimalist, and I suppose the idea is to make you stop and think about things you would normally walk straight past. A huge boulder and a sheet of steel might not sound terribly exciting, but when they're positioned in one of Ando's enormous concrete spaces, with the light and shadows changing around them, they certainly make an impression.

We paid our entrance fee, went to the loo and wandered into the museum, where we found one piece of art.

Very nice.

But where was everything else?

We looked around these enormous concrete rooms and couldn't find anything more. Surely we hadn't just paid to see one artwork and use the facilities?

Eventually, we went back to the gift shop to ask where the rest of the museum was.

It turned out we simply hadn't walked far enough into one of the rooms to activate the automatic doors!

The spaces are so enormous and minimalist that the doors are almost invisible, and unless you know they're there, it's very easy to miss them. Apparently we weren't the only ones who'd had this problem.

The staff kindly showed us where to go, and suddenly a whole new section of the museum opened up.

Honestly, only us!

Inside were more of Lee Ufan's works, including paintings with just a few brushstrokes on otherwise almost empty canvases. Again, the empty space is just as important as what's actually there.

And once again, no photography allowed inside, so you'll have to take my word for it! The photos below are from the outside and one sneaky pic until I remembered no photos.

At least we can now say we saw the whole museum, rather than just one piece of art and the toilets, even if they are fancy toilets!

Valley Gallery – Silver Balls and 88 Buddhas

Next stop was the Valley Gallery, just across from the Lee Ufan Museum, and yet another building designed by Tadao Ando. This one opened in 2022 and is a small, partly open-air concrete structure inspired by a Japanese shrine, with openings in the roof allowing the natural light and air to come through.

Here we found more of Yayoi Kusama's famous silver balls, an installation called Narcissus Garden. Hundreds of highly polished stainless steel spheres are scattered around the gallery, spilling out into the surrounding garden and pond, reflecting the sky, the building, the trees and, of course, anyone looking at them.

The work dates back to 1966, when Kusama first presented it at the Venice Biennale. Apparently, she even tried selling the individual balls to visitors, making a point about the commercialisation of art and our fascination with our own reflections. Hence the name Narcissus Garden, after the Greek myth of Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection.

The other artist was Tsuyoshi Ozawa, whose work Slag Buddha 88 consists of 88 small Buddha statues arranged around the landscape.

What makes these interesting is that they're made from slag, the waste material left over from processing industrial rubbish that had been illegally dumped on the nearby island of Teshima. The island had suffered years of environmental damage, so Ozawa used the waste to create something quite different.

The number 88 is also significant, referring to the famous pilgrimage of 88 Buddhist temples on the neighbouring island of Shikoku, as well as Naoshima's own Buddhist traditions.

Quite a clever idea, turning industrial waste into something associated with peace and reflection.

I rather liked the contrast between the shiny silver balls, the little Buddha statues and Ando's concrete building, all set amongst the trees. Another interesting combination of art, architecture and nature, which seems to be what Naoshima does so well.

Art House Project – Another James Turrell Experience

Next we headed to the Art House Project in Honmura to see if we could change tomorrow's tickets to today. We'd been a little concerned about fitting everything in tomorrow with all our trains and ferries, so thought it was worth asking.

And hoorah, we could!

The Art House Project is another interesting part of Naoshima, where old houses and buildings in the village have been transformed into contemporary artworks. Rather than being in a traditional museum, the art is scattered around the neighbourhood, so you wander through the little streets looking for the different houses.

We had some time before our allocated entry, so explored the neighbourhood before heading to Minamidera, another James Turrell installation, housed in a building designed by (you guessed it) Tadao Ando.

This one was quite an experience.

We entered a completely black room in two groups, eight of us going to the right and another eight to the left. We had to follow each other, keeping one hand on the wall because you literally couldn't see a thing.

And I mean nothing. Black, black, black!

Eventually we reached a bench, or at least we were told there was a bench. You had to turn around and sit down, trusting that there really was something underneath you because you certainly couldn't see it.

We were then told to sit quietly for about ten minutes while our eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Well, John and I were having a little chuckle to ourselves because we'd originally booked this for tomorrow and had been discussing how we might cut the visit short to make sure we had enough time for our trains and ferries.

Ha ha! Good luck with that!

There was absolutely no way we could have cut this short. We wouldn't even have been able to find our way out!

As we sat there in complete darkness, our eyes gradually began to adjust, and eventually we were asked to stand up.

Suddenly, we could make out the faintest light in the distance. As we walked towards it, the light seemed to get brighter and brighter, and what had looked like a solid wall turned out to be nothing but an illusion created by light.

It felt as though we were walking towards a wall of mist, with no real sense of where the space ended.

Another James Turrell optical illusion, and a very clever one at that.

We've now seen quite a few of his works, but I have to say this was a completely different experience. Who would have thought sitting in pitch darkness for ten minutes could be so interesting?

And thank goodness we changed our tickets. Trying to rush through that one tomorrow would have been a bit of a challenge!

Naoshima New Museum of Art – No Lunch, Flying Angels and a Bit of Provocation

Ha ha, I do love my own jokes!

For those wondering about the photograph of our James Turrell experience, yes, it's just a black square. I thought that was a pretty accurate representation of what we saw for the first ten minutes!

By now it was well and truly time for lunch, so we wandered around Honmura looking for somewhere to eat. Unfortunately, we'd left our wallet back in the room, so had no cash, which was proving to be a bit of a problem.

Eventually we found somewhere that took credit cards and, even better, had food that Johnny Boy could actually eat. Great stuff!

Luckily, before we ordered, I noticed that they didn't accept tap payments. You had to insert your card into the machine.

And, of course, we didn't have the physical card with us.

Phew! At least we discovered that before ordering anything. Can you imagine trying to explain that we'd eaten lunch but couldn't pay for it?

So, no lunch for us.

Instead, we headed up the hill to the Naoshima New Museum of Art, where thankfully we managed to get a drink and something to eat.

The museum only opened in May 2025, so it's the newest addition to Naoshima's collection of art museums. And yes, you've guessed it, another building designed by Tadao Ando! Apparently, this is his tenth building for the Benesse Art Site Naoshima project.

The museum is built into the hillside near Honmura, with three levels, two of them underground, and focuses mainly on contemporary artists from Japan and other parts of Asia. The idea is to explore different perspectives on society, culture and the world we live in.

I have to say, some of the artwork was definitely not my cup of tea, although there were some very interesting pieces.

One that caught my attention was Angels Fallen from the Sky by Indonesian artist Heri Dono.

There were these rather strange flying angels suspended from the ceiling, complete with wings and what looked like torpedoes. Not exactly your traditional image of an angel!

Heri Dono grew up in Indonesia during a period when freedom of expression was heavily restricted under President Suharto's government. His work often uses humour, traditional Indonesian puppetry and rather bizarre-looking figures to make political and social comments.

Apparently, these angels are about the importance of being free to dream, imagine and express yourself, particularly in a society where those freedoms have been suppressed.

I found that quite interesting. At first glance, they're just these odd flying creatures, but once you understand a little of the history behind them, they take on a completely different meaning.

There was also another work by Heri Dono in collaboration with an Indonesian artist group called indieguerillas. This one draws on traditional Javanese shadow puppets and cartoons to explore how people with different beliefs and backgrounds can live together. It's about diversity, cooperation and our relationship with nature, although you certainly wouldn't necessarily work all that out just by looking at it!

Another work that caught my attention was Aftermath by Thai artist Pannaphan Yodmanee.

This was a large installation with paintings, sculptures and fragments that looked almost like pieces of ancient temples or ruins. There were Buddhist images mixed with references to science, technology and modern life.

At first I thought it represented the destruction of an earthquake. But, no... The artist is exploring how traditional Buddhist beliefs fit into a world that is constantly changing, and how progress and development can also bring destruction. Buddhist ideas about the cycle of life, death and rebirth sit alongside the realities of the modern world.

I found that quite thought-provoking, particularly the contrast between something as ancient as Buddhism and the speed at which our world is changing.

Then there were the wolves!

This was quite an extraordinary installation called Head On by Chinese artist Cai Guo-Qiang. There are 99 life-sized wolves, all suspended in the air, appearing to run and leap together in one enormous arc towards a transparent glass wall. The wolves at the front have crashed into the wall and are tumbling to the ground, while the others continue charging forward, apparently unaware of what is about to happen to them.

The work was originally created in 2006 and has a fascinating connection to the Berlin Wall. Although the physical wall came down in 1989, the artist is suggesting that invisible barriers still exist between people, cultures and countries.

The glass wall is the same height as the Berlin Wall, and the wolves represent the way groups can blindly follow one another, sometimes repeating the same mistakes despite seeing what has happened to those in front of them.

It's quite a powerful image when you understand the meaning behind it. All these wolves charging forward with such determination, only to hit a barrier they cannot see.

I found this one particularly interesting. There's something rather disturbing about watching them all heading towards disaster, but I suppose that's exactly the point.

Another artwork that was quite different was by Korean artist Do Ho Suh.

This was an extraordinary series of rooms and corridors made from what looked like the most delicate paper or netting. In fact, they're made from a fine, translucent polyester fabric, carefully stitched to recreate the interiors of buildings where the artist has lived.

The work is called Hub/s, Naoshima, Seoul, New York, Horsham, London, Berlin, and you can actually walk through parts of it.

The walls, doorways and little architectural details are all there, but everything is almost transparent. It feels so fragile that you can hardly believe you're allowed to walk through it.

Do Ho Suh was born in South Korea and has lived in several countries, and much of his work is about the meaning of home and belonging. Rather than thinking of home as just one place, he explores how we carry memories of all the places we've lived.

I rather liked that idea, particularly when you're travelling. Home isn't necessarily just a building or an address, but all the memories and experiences that go with it.

And the amount of work involved in creating these delicate fabric structures must be extraordinary. Every doorway, corridor and little detail has been recreated, but with almost nothing solid holding it together.

It was one of those pieces that looked quite simple from a distance, but the closer you got, the more interesting it became.

And I suppose that's what art is all about.

You don't have to like every piece, and goodness knows there were quite a few here that I wouldn't want hanging in my lounge room!

But I do like the way art can provoke a thought or make you look at something differently. Sometimes it's only when you read about the artist and what they're trying to say that you begin to understand what you're looking at.

It's seeing the world, or an interpretation of it, through somebody else's eyes.

And I rather like that.

So, although the artworks weren't all to our taste, it was certainly an interesting visit. And we finally managed to get some lunch, which by this stage was almost as important as the art!

All Arted Out!

And that's it for us today. We are officially all arted out!

What a fabulous couple of days we've had on Naoshima. I am so pleased we decided to stay here rather than just visit on a day trip. There is so much to see, and having two days has given us time to explore without rushing from one museum to the next. Definitely worth the effort of getting here, not to mention the saga of actually securing a room at Benesse House!

Tonight is going to be a very quiet night in. John has decided he can't face going back to the only restaurant where he can find something to eat, only to order the one thing on the menu that he can actually eat. Again!

So it looks like we're going to lose a little weight tonight!

We're also both coming down with colds, which isn't ideal when you're travelling, so some R&R is definitely required before tomorrow's transfer day.

And of course, there's a blog to write!

So an early night for the Thompsons, a bit of rest and hopefully we'll both be feeling better in the morning.

Another adventure awaits tomorrow, but for now, I think we've seen enough art to keep us going for a little while!