Drawn by the sea breezeand the cats to Sanagi Island

From Shishijima, with its great camphor tree and its flower garden in the sky, the ferry took me to Sanagi Island, a small island belonging to the town of Tadotsu in Kagawa Prefecture. The ferry, white with a red stripe, slid into the harbor against the green of the island.

This is a "cat island," where the cats are said to outnumber the people. A tabby lay stretched out on the quay, and in front of the little waiting room at Motoura harbor, cat after cat came over to me. When I crouched down, they walked right up to my feet.

A cat followed me down the lane, and on a tiled roof a black-and-white cat dozed with its eyes closed. Their complete lack of wariness toward people loosened something in me.

A wooden school building stood at the end of the road along the sea. I climbed the stone steps and went in through the entrance, where a sign said WE ARE OPEN.

Beyond the windows was nothing but sea. A little cat-shaped ornament swung in the window, and a red rotary payphone had become a donation box for cat kibble. On the counter stood a hand-painted board: "Welcome to Sanagi, the cat island." An eye chart, a scale, shelves of school supplies and a guitar: this is a café in a renovated elementary school that keeps all the charm of its wooden architecture.

Through the latticed window I could see the Seto Inland Sea and the island across the water.

Curry and rice, served in what used to be the staff room. Chunks of meat in a sauce full of spices: a grown-up flavor. A wooden table, a white coffee cup.

For dessert, ice cream made with figs grown by local people, served in a glass dish with a round biscuit on the side.

At the end of the school corridor, the sea. I sat in a chair and gazed out for a while. A place where time seems to have stopped, just as it was when I was a child.

Outside, the calm sea breeze of the Seto Inland Sea. Cats lay beside a stone monument, and a black cat walked along the top of the breakwater. Island cats, living a leisurely life.

A sign reading "Music Room" still hung in the corridor. The classrooms are now the island's only lodging. Sea outside the windows, and cats on the other side of the glass.

On a shelf in the corridor sat old metal dishes marked "for 5th and 6th grade," left just as they were. It brought back those days when every day was an adventure and I played without a care.

I stroked an orange tabby, and it narrowed its eyes in bliss. You're the masters of this place now. On the road between the old houses, a black cat crossed at its own pace.

In the harbor waiting room, a blackboard listed the Saturday boat to Kasaoka, and notices were pinned to the wall. By the ticket window, another sign warned that the Daitengu Shrine was off limits because of wild boars.

From under the roof of the pier, I looked out at the harbor and the island across the water. If I ever want to feel like a child again, I'll come back here.

Back on Awashima, I stopped at a little shop near the harbor. Old signs for beer and ice cream, ornaments hanging from the eaves, and on the bench out front, baskets with pink price tags.

Here was the traditional Kagawa sweet I had wanted to try: oiri. Next to it, bags of dried sardines. After school, buy snacks at the candy store.

At the end of a shaded path, a torii gate stood facing the sea: the seaside Maki Hachiman Shrine. Standing under the gate, I had the Seto Inland Sea in front of me and the hills of the far shore beyond.

I sat down on the sand and ate an ice cream. Snacks eaten at the shrine on the way home. Even now, as an adult, I find it just as much fun.

Down the lane between the old houses, and I'm home. Lamplight glowed in the house of latticed doors and paper screens.

I tipped the oiri, light little grains in pretty pastel colors, into a glass dish, and brewed awamori coffee, a souvenir from a trip to Okinawa a while ago. On Awashima, awamori coffee and pale wedding sweets. How refined.

On the stone steps beyond the veranda, a cat was napping in the greenery.

The sun sank into the Seto Inland Sea. When I was a child, dusk always made me a little sad, because it meant a fun day was ending.

As the house went dark, a single lantern glowed on the step.

For dinner, I decided to make shippoku udon. I sliced a daikon into rounds, then simmered chicken, root vegetables, taro and shiitake in dashi stock.

Pour it all, broth and vegetables, over boiled udon, and scatter green onions on top. It's really a dish for autumn and winter, and some families eat it instead of toshikoshi soba on New Year's Eve.

Light glowed in the windows of the house at night. I poured a non-alcoholic beer into a glass and, in a New Year's Eve mood, brought this happy day to a close.

A Kagawa home-style dish, packed with the flavor of root vegetables and shiitake. Now that I'm grown up, simple, nourishing food like this tastes delicious from the bottom of my heart. Being an adult isn't so bad.