Those who walk the 四国八十八箇所 (Shikoku Hachijūhakkasho), or Shikoku Pilgrimage, visit 88 temples in honor of the Buddhist monk Kūkai, covering a route of about 1,200 kilometers. Originally, the pilgrimage was done on foot, wearing a white jacket and a woven conical hat. Nowadays, pilgrims also take the bus or train—though we still occasionally saw a die-hard walking along the highway. The journey takes pilgrims through the four prefectures of Shikoku: Tokushima, Kochi, Ehime, and Kagawa.

We were not doing this pilgrimage, and only visited temple 84: Yashima-ji. Though that was for another reason, which we’ll get to later. While pilgrims collect a stamp at each temple in their booklets, we were collecting something else: Starbucks medallions. In the meantime, we also visited strange, abandoned places, and a castle that wasn’t there.

Let’s start with the reason for this adventure: François and I went on our honeymoon! When we got married almost two months ago, François got five days off work (after showing proof in the form of our marriage certificate). We had to make the most of that!

Now, attentive readers will know that we have cats, so going away together for a week wasn’t exactly straightforward. The people who used to cat-sit for us were all unavailable, so I posted a message on Instagram offering our home for free in exchange for taking care of our two furry kids. We found Patricia, an experienced cat-sitter, who came over from the Netherlands for a lovely week in Japan.

On Wednesday, I picked Patricia up from Narita Airport. We had until Thursday evening to show her around our house and let the cats get used to her. That Thursday, at 10:15 p.m., we boarded the Sunrise Seto, the sleeper train to Takamatsu.

We’d return to Takamatsu later, but after an early chai latte for our first Starbucks medallion, we took the train straight to the second one: in Ehime, in the charming town of Dōgo Onsen—a place known for its natural hot springs, where many pilgrims enjoy a healing bath. We didn’t go in the bath ourselves, though with all the rain it almost felt like we did.

Our hotel was in the center of Matsuyama, the big city that Dōgo Onsen is part of. Matsuyama has a cute little castle on top of a hill, old-fashioned trams, and occasionally a special steam tram (Bocchan) that chugs from Matsuyama Station to Dōgo Onsen. And that final stop? It’s been transformed into a Starbucks!

Since it was pouring all day, we decided to check out the covered shopping street, take a quick look at the famous historic bathhouse, and then head back to the hotel. We’d booked a room with a castle view, so we figured we’d be all set.

The next day, we took the express train to Uwajima. From there, we had rented a car, which we would drop off in Kochi the following day. I wanted to visit an underwater observatory that couldn’t be reached by train.

Because yes—speaking of trains—Shikoku is a whole different story from Tokyo. Some trains only run three times a day, like the famously “slowest Shinkansen in the world,” which chugs back and forth between Uwajima and Nakamura. I had really wanted to take this train, but with our tight schedule, a 2.5-hour ride with no toilet felt a bit too risky—missing this train or getting off to pee would disrupt our whole trip. And even then, we still wouldn’t be anywhere near the observatory. Oh well, I thought, guess we’ll have to skip the “Shinkansen”… But then, just as we got off the train in Uwajima and I was waiting on the platform for François—who had gone to the bathroom—it suddenly rolled in!

We picked up the rental car and hit the road. I had spotted something interesting on the map: a Japanese WWII fighter plane that had been fished out of the sea, restored, and placed in a small museum on top of a mountain. That mountain, in Ainan, used to be a tourist attraction. Just a few minutes’ walk from the museum stood a tall observation tower that Google Maps didn’t mention. It wasn’t moving either. “Must be closed?”

We decided to walk up to it and take a closer look at the structure. The rust gave away a lot, as did the abandoned station of what must once have been a cable car. Down in the water, we could still see the concrete foundations of what used to be the support towers. Up on the mountain, the towers were still there—but without cables, chairs, or any kind of cabins. I don’t know when the cable car stopped running, but it turned out the observation tower had been closed since 2019. A little further on, we spotted a small zoo that, according to a note on the barrier, was closed due to bird flu. They haven’t had much luck, over there in Ainan.

Time to hit the road again. Because of our little detour to the observation tower, it was getting quite late, and the Ashizuri Underwater Observatory was only open until 5:00 p.m. According to the GPS, we’d make it just in time. But when we pulled into the parking lot at 4:38, we saw a sign with extra info that wasn’t listed on Google Maps: “Last entry: 4:30 p.m.”

Shit! Now what? Try anyway?

I whipped out my best Japanese and promised the man at the ticket window that we’d be back outside before 5:00. We speedran down the stairs, past all the portholes, waved at the fish, and were back on land by 4:56. Mission accomplished. (And honestly? I couldn’t care less about the fish—I was there for the epic building.)

Since François rarely drives—and finds it quite stressful—we had already decided during our planning that we wouldn’t drive after dark. That evening, we stayed overnight in Shimanto, a small town about a 45-minute drive from the observatory. I had booked two single rooms in a crappy hotel, so I could recharge a bit too. That night, we had a lovely traditional Japanese dinner at the restaurant of a fancier hotel within walking distance of ours.

The next morning, I wanted to check out the thrift store almost directly across from our hotel. It turned out to be an amazing place with a huge selection of kimono, and of course I bought a few. (We had the car, after all, so I didn’t have to lug them around everywhere, haha.) Since we didn’t have to return the rental car until 6 p.m., and it was only about a two-hour drive to our next destination, Kōchi, we had all the time in the world that day.

In Kōchi, there was one thing I really wanted to see: the Sawada Mansions. I had once seen a YouTube video about this unique building, which was built illegally by a wonderfully stubborn couple with a vision—people who thought they could do everything themselves. Apartments in the building are dirt cheap, and all sorts of goods are sold and classes are held there. On the roof, there’s a small farm, and at the entrance, a few boxes sell vegetables on a trust basis: “Put the money in this box,” a handwritten note says. Whether the building is actually safe is another question, so we didn’t dare go all the way to the top. But we did visit the nearby Starbucks, for medallion number 3: the one from Kōchi. (Kōchi is the name of both the prefecture and the city.)

After that, we stopped by a few more thrift stores. At Hard-Off, François scored a DJ set for his old PlayStation. He used to have one when he was younger, but it broke. This one was untested, but so cheap he couldn’t pass it up.

So now we had a bag full of kimono and a big PlayStation box… We returned the car, checked into our hotel (a slightly fancier one this time: JR Clement Inn, right across from Kōchi Station), and then walked to Daiso to buy a large plastic shopping bag for 200 yen. We stuffed it with our kimono, DJ set, souvenirs, and dirty laundry, and handed it over to the hotel reception. Decent hotels in Japan often offer luggage shipping services, so our excess baggage would be delivered by Kuroneko Yamato the Thursday we got home. Oh, Japan, how I love you.

That evening, we watched TV in the hotel room (tip: bring your own HDMI cable so you can play anything from your laptop on the hotel TV), and the next morning we continued our trip to Takamatsu.