20: October 24th, 1917 Omura: Omura Pearls

Thinking that a visit to the culture plant of the Omura-wan Pearl Company would prove interesting and inspire bygone Thursday Island reminiscences, preparations for the trip were made accordingly, the same being greatly facilitated by the advice and assistance courteously rendered by the Japan Tourist Bureau, which provided the necessary introductions, arranged the itinerary and also issued the railway tickets.

En passant, it may be remarked that the J. T. B., organised and controlled by Government sorely for the convenience of travellers and tourists, is an excellent institution and the mono-lingual alien, on applying at any of its branch offices will receive every assistance from its courteous staff of English speaking employees towards making any tour a pleasant one. In addition to supplying information respecting the train service, the Bureau will arrange itineraries with an estimate of the expenditure involved and if necessary, will issue letters of introduction - all free, gratis and for nothing.

In its issuance of railway tickets alone, the Bureau is a great convenience as these tickets, unlike the regular ones issued at the railway station, are good for 90 days, with the further privilege of as many “stops over” at intermediate points as the holder may desire.

Provided with such a ticket, to Omura then by the 7.40 train. In passing the barrier leading to the platform, the Pilgrim appeared to be regarded as a “distinguished personage,” the J. T. B. blue paper he exhibited at the barrier being somewhat of a mystery to the ordinary ticket holders, hence the remarks overheard, as to his probable identity, destination and mission were amusing, if inaccurate.

The route to Isahaya has previously been described but one never tires of the pretty silvan scenery and the incidentalae of rural life observed are always interesting. The shooting season is evidently open as in the fields one frequently observes sportsmen with dog and gun. No game is visible, even policemen or politicians being conspicuous by their absence, so what there is to shoot is a matter for conjecture. In the rick-yards farm hands are busy, threshing out the rice, repairing the thatch or at other farm work, while from odd corners small bonfires with much smoke indicate the burning of woods or farm refuse. The rice fields appear as bare brown patches, in which the short stubble, in regular ordered rows shows where the crop has been harvested.

The weather, which on setting out had been dull and overcast, now seems to have developed into a contest for the survival of the fittest - sunshine v. rain. The Pilgrim lays odds on the latter, in the hopes that his usual lottery-luck prevails and that he will lose out.

But now the panting of the engine and decreasing speed indicates the ascent of the steep gradient which precedes the first of the seven tunnels between Nagasaki and Omura. The electric lamps light up, there is a hurried closing of the car windows and with a roar, we enter the first and longest tunnel.

As nothing is to be seen outside, the Pilgrim turns round and takes stock of his travelling companions. The latter are few in number and consist mainly of the - one can hardly term them the “fairer” sex, so compromise matters by styling them the O-shiroi-ed ditto and letting it go at that. O-shiroi, it may be well to explain to the uninitiated, is an adjunct to milady's toilette table; a complexion cream, the medium wherewith dazzling complexions, varying from a warm cream-like pallor to a chalk white incrustation are “built up.”

O-Shiroi

As usual, there is the lady whom railway travelling upsets, curled up on the seat, handkerchief pressed firmly to her nose and drooping like a wilted lily. The puckered brows and the handkerchief give rise to an interesting speculation. Is the evolution of the many retrousse noses one observes due to excessive railway travelling, superimposed upon the effects consequent upon being strapped to Mamma’s back in infancy, when every step Mamma takes in her clumsy but cheap and durable geta, is punctuated by the bobbing of baby's head, and the abrupt contact between its nose and Mamma’s shoulders? It is an interesting question, somewhat too profound for the Pilgrim who leaves it to ethnologists to solve.

A family party with friends and a huge number of bundles, packages and umbrellas, which are constantly falling down and being replaced. From their conversation, the party is travelling to Obama, under the chaperonage of an elderly lady who possesses a sharp tongue and apparently a profound contempt, for Oshiroi, elaborate hairdressing, or other feminine fripperies and adornments. Keeping a sharp eye on her charges who are seated, all so very proper and demure, Obasan, in the intervals of having a whiff at her pipe, calls attention to some detail of apparel or deportment apparently not exactly “just so”, that is quite invisible to the eye of a man.

In the corner seat, fond Mamma, with H. R. H. the Baby, the latter a centre of a clique of admiring ladies. H. R. H. is evidently of a fighting breed which holds in profound contempt, the “Rules,” as laid down by a late Marquis of immortal, if immoral, memory. A very fair attempt at gouging was evaded by an admirer, who retained sufficient equanimity to gurgle the Japanese equivalent for “My! But ain’t he just too cute for anything!”

Out again, into the blessed daylight clear of the smoke and fumes of sulphurous coal. On the left is the beautiful terraced valley at the head of the Gulf of Omura with the waters of the gulf itself in the near distance, ever beautiful even under this sullen sky. Until the railway branches off at Haiki, the track skirts the winding shore line of the gulf, amid scenery which is, perhaps, the most picturesque between Nagasaki and Tosu.

Shikano-shima, Omura-wan