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Sado Island
Sado Island
Sado Island
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Sado Island

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Sado island, one of remote places in Japan. In spite of that, it has a curious history and it can't escape being thrust into the spot light even today. Located in the Sea of Japan, Koreans call it East Sea, close to Korea and Russia. International intrigue played there. I grew up on the mainland right across from Sado island. Past is interesting but its excitement is not ending.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 25, 2010
ISBN9780981676043
Sado Island
Author

Toshiyuki Ihira

I designed the NASA's logo that was done with bent one line for each letter of "N", "A", "S", "A" that had been retired thankfully. I didn't receive any compensation for it. I just gave it away. I was hoping I would garner some name recognition but it didn't quite turn out that way. I was in a very delicate situation back in 1979 and early 1980s. I also designed the logo for intel. One with letter "e" dropping about half way. I was hoping to get paid but at the last minute this woman who set up the meeting for both of us, I and the man from intel, intervened and mangled the deal. I had gotten nothing out of that to my dismay.

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    Sado Island - Toshiyuki Ihira

    Sado island

    Smashwords Edition.

    Copyright © 2010 Toshiyuki Ihira

    Published by Toshiyuki Ihira

    All Rights Reserved.

    ISBN 978-0-9816760-4-3

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this ebook.

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, then you should return to www.Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

    It is a modest island. As far as an island goes, it is not small nor large. Only fame to its existence is its gold mine. Convict labor worked that mine 100s of years ago. A mountain where the mine is located is cut in two right in the middle with a wedge shaped trough almost all the way down to the ground level. All by human power.

    We take a ferry to that island. Just a few hours choppy ride. Summer sun is bright enough but over on open ocean, sunshine is even brighter. Usually there is an anticipation when we step on a boat that takes us to a remote island for a tour but we know there isn't much to see at all and most recreation we can have is looking for a good eat that we can have on the mainland anyway. Our spirit is listless and looking for a way out. The entire tourist industries on the island are busy drumming up, more like making it up, merits of coming to the island. It's gotten so intense that their tone of wanting you to come is practically badgering. All souvenirs have a feel of a copy of some other place or hastily cooked up trinkets. By the time we get to the island's port, we are already worn out a bit and weary. A ferry ride takes up a good chunk of the morning and ride back takes about the same so we don't have time left to do much if we go back to the mainland on the same day. A whole point of even coming to this island is contentious then. We are staying the night. It's only a night stay and the island's closeness to our home town makes us feel we haven't left our home. We didn't pack anything for the trip. Without securing a hotel room, we start to look for a restaurant. It's lunch time. We have to make this trip worthwhile. We look for eats that we can't have on the mainland. But, … . Seafood? Our home town is a port town. We can have freshly fried, grilled, poached fish of all kind and shellfish, too, without coming here. After looking over few restaurant's entries made in wax and plastic displayed in a window case for patrons to see - they look really lifelike, you can smell them - we decide it is worthless to look for something indigenous and keep looking only adds to our miserable feeling. We settle in the nearest restaurant and order whatever we want. We don't even talk over what's good to eat. We focus on gabbing and try to shake off this let down and salvage this trip. As we gab, it seems just an ordinary afternoon at home, except our surroundings. New place and different locale are interesting in itself to young people since they haven't had a chance to venture out but we are a lot mature, extra mature some might say. More we gab, more we notice the unfamiliar scene around us and this makes us uneasy and uncomfortable. Casual gabbing among friends and new locale don't mix. We are drawn to scenes around and outside. Coastal scenery is delightful enough but staring at it for two minutes we have seen plenty. Sea rapping and rocks jutting out of it and trees on top don't, can't seep down into our person deep enough, not today. As we grow older with keen mind that hasn't gone senile, we are interested in bustle and hustle of

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