Living with the seain the boathouses of Ine

Ine is a fishing town in the northern part of Kyoto Prefecture. Along the shore of Ine Bay stand about 230 funaya, boathouses of a kind found nowhere else: the first floor is the boat storage area, and the second floor is the residential area.

Looking across the bay, I saw the boathouses lined up at the very edge of the water, with green hills behind them. Sightseeing boats and fishing boats passed slowly in front. Through the open doorway of one boathouse, I could see Aoshima, the island at the mouth of the bay.

I walked the lane on the hill side. A scooter ran past between the wooden-walled houses. I passed a small restaurant with a banner for dried sea cucumber rice bowls, and from behind the boathouses came out to the bay again.

Most of the boathouses in Ine are private homes, but there is a funaya that offers interesting indoor views. Through the dim doorway, ropes and floats hung from the beams, and oars and glass fishing floats were fixed to the walls.

You can see the fishing gear used in the old days and the boats up close. Between old photographs and maps were labels explaining a whale harpoon and a wooden tub.

Sitting on the bench beside the boat, I had the sea right in front of me. Seen from the water, the first floor of a boathouse, laundry swaying, opens straight onto the bay. A glimpse of the lifestyle of Ine, a fishing town.

Let's drop in at the coffee shop in a renovated funaya. Past the noren curtain, lamps made of glass fishing floats hung from the ceiling, and beyond the floor was the open sea.

Handmade mitarashi dango made with Kyoto rice: how could I say no? I carried the tray of green tea and the plate of dango to a seat at the water's edge. Aoshima floated at the mouth of the bay, and all I could hear was the sound of the waves.

Let's have lunch on a hill overlooking this view. The hills around the bay, the roofs of the boathouses along the water, and a sightseeing boat drawing a white wake across the bay.

Tai-don: rice topped with sea bream sashimi, made with sea bream from Ine and Koshihikari rice. Thin slices of bream with shredded shiso, and an egg yolk in the middle. I poured soy sauce over it, broke the yolk and mixed it in, poured a glass of non-alcoholic beer, and ate on the wooden terrace with the sea in view.

The flesh was firm and delicious. Ine iine: Ine is great.

Let's do some shopping for dinner. Beside a harbor full of fishing boats was a market full of seafood from Kyoto.

On the ice lay Kyoto tilefish, blackthroat seaperch and chicken grunt. Baskets held dried fish, and a tray of eight turban shells was 1,100 yen. The shopkeeper bagged everything deftly and set it on the scale. The menu for tonight has been decided: fresh seafood.

Back at the old house: I've arrived. The sun dropped behind the hills around the bay, and the row of boathouses sank into the colors of dusk. Out at the end of the breakwater, people were fishing.

In the kitchen I laid skinned filefish in a pot, added rice and water, and put it on the heat. When it came to a boil, I poured in the seasoning. Lifting the lid afterward, I found the white flesh resting plump on top of the rice.

I flaked the fish, mixed it through, filled a bowl and scattered chopped green onion over it. Beside it, a plate of chicken grunt sashimi.

The Kyoto seafood special has started. A grill went over the tabletop brazier: turban shells, clams and blackthroat seaperch. The main dish is grilled seafood, with filefish rice and chicken grunt sashimi on the side.

Flames leapt up and the shells crackled. A clam opened its mouth and its juice spilled over. Grilled clams are good, aren't they? The task of pulling out the meat was omitted.

I sat down to dinner alone in the tatami room. When I hear "Kyoto", I think of the old capital and its famous sights. But Kyoto by the Sea has a different charm of its own. Yoroshiosu na: as they say in Kyoto dialect, it's truly good.