I visited Mojiko and Shimonoseki, two port towns that feel slightly paused in time—underdeveloped, perhaps, but quietly waiting to be rediscovered.
 

My mother invited me on a short excursion that included a one-night stay in Mojiko, located at the north-western edge of Kyushu. From here, Kyushu faces Honshu, Japan’s largest island, separated only by the narrow Kanmon Strait. Today, the two islands are firmly connected, but the geography still gives the place a sense of standing at a threshold.

Before modern times, Mojiko was nothing more than a small fishing village. What gave it significance was its location. The Kanmon Strait, stretching quietly in front of the town, has long been one of Japan’s most critical maritime passages, linking Kyushu and Honshu both economically and strategically.

That destiny began to take shape in 1889, when Mojiko was officially opened as an international trading port. The arrival of the railway in 1891 accelerated everything. Coal from Kyushu, goods from across Japan, and people heading in every direction flowed through this port. By the early 20th century, Mojiko had risen to become one of Japan’s major ports.

The elegant Mojiko Station, completed in 1914, still stands as a reminder of that golden age. Walking through it, one can easily imagine the bustle of travellers from a century ago. In 1922, even Albert Einstein passed through this town, staying at the former Moji Mitsui Club during his visit to Japan.

History, however, shifted course. During the war years, Mojiko became a departure point for soldiers, and in 1942, the opening of the undersea railway tunnel connecting Honshu and Kyushu gradually diminished the port’s importance. What was once a gateway slowly became a quiet corner.

Yet Mojiko did not disappear. Instead, it chose preservation over reinvention. Since 1995, the area has been reborn as Mojiko Retro. In this district, historic buildings are carefully maintained, and the town’s layered past is presented as a walking experience, framed by expansive sea views.

Our primary purpose, however, lay just across the water. We planned to visit Karato Fish Market in Shimonoseki, Yamaguchi Prefecture, a mere five-minute speedboat ride across the strait. Knowing the market comes alive only in the early morning, we decided to arrive a day early and let the waves set the pace.

As I walked around Mojiko, I noticed a small mix of Thai, Korean, Taiwanese, and Western tourists—but never in large numbers. Most cafés, restaurants, and souvenir shops remained closed until around 10:30 in the morning, and many shut their doors again by 8:00 PM. The town moved slowly, unhurried, almost deliberately so.

Staying in Mojiko felt surprisingly new to me, despite how easily accessible it is from the city where my mother lives, with direct JR Kyushu Line service. Whether it was due to weekday timing, the off-season, or something more profound, the scarcity of visitors around the station was striking. It quietly reflected one of modern Japan’s realities—how some places drift into stillness while others overflow with life.

Tomorrow, I will write about my brief experience at Karato Market and Ganryū-jima Island.