All abandoned: Chernobyl / Pripyat, Nara Dreamland, Anti-Zombie Fortress, Japanese Sex Museum – and many, many more! Plus: North Korea Special – 2 trips, 16 days / 14 nights! As seen on CNN…
The Dolphin Island Restaurant is one of those weird, unique places I love Japan for – and it’s one of the few urbex insider tips in Okinawa. It is also one of the toughest places to access. Not because of security, but because of timing. Nowadays located just a stone’s throw away from the Okinawan coast the Dolphin Island Restaurant can be reached by wading through the water if the timing is right and the tide is low…
After a day of exploration *Michael* was kind enough to revisit one of the places he explored when *he went to Okinawa in 2011*. The Dolphin Island Restaurant is a gorgeous little island, sadly there is little to nothing known about its history. Massive concrete and wooden electricity posts let me come to the conclusion that the current supply came from the mainland about 300 meters to the east and that it was constructed in the 1950s or 60s. Nowadays you can almost walk up to the place from the north, getting as close as maybe 10 meters, but I doubt the area looked like that when the restaurant island was still open for business. Judging by the shape of the close-by warehouse area / harbor I’m pretty sure that this part of Okinawa is artificial land, one of the many reclamation projects Japan did in the past couple of decades – this one was limited by the Dolphin Island, but it got as close as possible…
I can imagine that business was though back in the days, because without access via a bridge all the visitors must have gotten to the island by boat – and that most likely meant no business on stormy days and that it took quite some effort by potential guests to reach the restaurant.
It’s said that the Dolphin Island Restaurant was not only a restaurant, but also hosted an aquarium – hence the name “Dolphin Island” or “Hiituu Island” in Okinawan dialect.
Since it was getting late that day and the tide was already rising I refrained from wading through the water and stayed on dry land. With proper equipment like airtight bags to get my camera to the island safely I might have taken a swim, but given the situation that day I decided to just take some photos and a video. Later on Michael and I went to the original coast line and took some pictures from the beach, waiting for the sun to set – not our lucky day, because the sky got cloudy for the few couple of minutes we were hoping for a spectacular horizon…
And with that the Dolphin Island Restaurant became the third location on Okinawa (after the *Nakagusuku Hotel Ruin* and the *Sunset View Inn Shah Bay*) I would like to revisit one day… Well, at least the last location on Michael’s and my *trip to Okinawa* was a great success – somewhat of an original find and a really unique location with an exciting and unusual history! Up next on Abandoned Kansai…
The Lequio Resort Okinawa, to the net usually known as the Rekio Hotel thanks to the usual katakana transcription problems, is one of those countless hotel ruins you can find all over Japan and that most urban explorers only visit because nobody has torn them down yet. The most interesting thing I can say about the place is the fact that it was built in the 1970s during the Okinawan hotel boom and right in time for the Okinawan Ocean Expo in 1975 – like the *Nakagusuku Hotel Ruin*, the most amazing unfinished hotel I’ve ever seen. Unlike the Nakagusku Hotel the Lequio Resort was actually finished and opened, at least for a while. Nowadays it’s completely vandalized and gutted, almost as bare Okinawa’s all outshining haikyo further down south. Bare except for the impressive amount of graffiti – almost as plenty, but barely ever as good as at the *La Rainbow Hotel* in Okayama. Built halfway up a mountain overlooking a gorgeous bay the Rekio Hotel offered some stunning views and visitors should be very careful where their steps lead them, because the place is a death trap with barely any safety barriers. The elevator shaft was cracked open on every floor and the balconies had no railings, except for some low hanging ropes on some of them. The vandalized state and the exposed position of the hotel make it and everybody inside susceptible for the always present winds, so seriously: Be careful when you go there. If you go there, because there is really not much to see. My favourite part was the glasses shaped pool, now green, moldy and pretty disgusting. But overall *Michael* and I spent just about an hour at the Lequio Resort – which is a ridiculously short amount of time for a hotel of that size, considering that it took me more than 12 minutes to shoot a walking tour there. If the Rekio Hotel would have been one of my first explorations I’m sure it would have been an exciting adventure, but after seeing so many abandoned hotels it turned out to be barely more than a footnote in my (imaginary) haikyo book…
(Addendum 2012-07-19: It seems like “Lequio” was the Portuguese name for Okinawa when it was still the kingdom of Ryukyu – thanks to my dear colleague and regular reader Mayuko for that information!)
Exploring the Sunset View Inn Shah Bay (combining two dozen cottages and the Shah Bay hotel) was one of the worst urbex experiences I ever had – so bad that I cut it short and left after about half an hour. I could have easily faked an interesting article about a smooth exploration since I took enough photos and even a short video, but what’s the point? Not all urbex trips go as planned and not all explorations are successful. Here’s one that turned out to be a nerve-wrecking waste of time.
The Sunset View Inn is (or better: was) a resort complex in the northern part of Okinawa on top of a mountain with a gorgeous view, but pretty much in the middle of nowhere even by Okinawan standards. When *Michael* and I drove up there using narrow countryside roads and half-overgrown streets of decent size I already was kind of aware that we were slipping into a disaster. Tired from the previous day we arrived on the mountain top with no food, drinks or umbrellas at the nearby scenic outpost when it just started to drizzle again. Michael opted for a bathroom break (yes, there was a maintained concrete restroom at an abandoned scenic outpost…) while I walked down the road for a couple of dozen meters as I thought I saw an abandoned concrete building behind a wall of green – I was right. Sadly I didn’t bring my camera, but it was unspectacular anyway; just a vandalized one floor concrete building, probably a restaurant. Of course the rain got stronger, so I had to wait for about ten minutes before I could reunite with Michael. It still drizzled heavily when my haikyo buddy told me that he saw house with some activity and a sign that says that the police will be called if somebody gets close to the hotel. Great. Could it get any worse? Yes: When we climbed over a road block on the way to the hotel Michael made me aware of another sign informing potential visitors about security patrolling the area. And of course the rain was pouring heavily again. Hot, humid, hungry, tired, potential security, heavy rain, no umbrella – a nightmare scenario. After about 150 meters the road split. Right cottages, left the Shah Bay hotel. We decided to have a look at the cottages first, but even their slightly vandalized state didn’t make me more confident. I felt uneasy and would have probably left at that point if I would have been alone. The road lining up the cottages lead back to the entrance area where Michael told me the occupied house with the warning sign was… Was the street leading there? Could security get to us by car? (The way we entered was blocked for vehicles.) Or even worse: silently on foot? I mentioned it before in other articles – I’m tired of vandalized hotels, and those abandoned cottages looked all the same, were all moldy, had all the typical look, feel and smell of abandoned Japanese accommodations. Michael didn’t seem to be that excited either, so after about ten minutes we decided to turn around and go to the hotel. Hot, wet, sweaty, nervous, tired and bored we approached the big deserted building when all of a sudden Michael yelled whisperingly “There’s a car coming, there’s a car coming!” (or something like that) – so we sprinted and dug into the wet bushed while the rain continued to get stronger. Of course there was no car coming, but now we were completely wet and at least I was a nervous wreck and getting seriously paranoid. As I mentioned twice recently (*here* and *here*) I am not into infiltration, I have explored way too many haikyo (especially hotels) and I am just too old for this shit! But the situation got worse. We entered the empty lobby of the hotel with a beautiful, untouched area straight out of a museum to the left when all of a sudden I thought I heard footsteps. We ran again, this time hiding in the close-by former gift shop. While my knees were screaming in pain I still heard footsteps – irregularly, louder and quieter. After two or three minutes I had enough. I already told Michael at the cottages that I didn’t like the current situation and while hiding at the gift shop I finally draw the line – this far and not a single step further. So I left. Michael decided to stay and joined me at the car about an hour later. It turned out that the footsteps were a mix of dripping water and an unspecified animal making noises – we couldn’t get in contact because the phone reception up there was close to non-existent. I couldn’t have gotten back in anyways since tourists in cars were coming up constantly to pay a visit to the abandoned observation point. So I took a couple of photos there and in passing found out that the first warning sign wasn’t at the house where people lived, but at an derelict kiosk a couple of meters away, outside of the premises – small details…
I know this article doesn’t fit the self-publicizing image of urban explorers hiding from the police, dodging security and doing all kinds of “cool” things. But that’s not me anyways. I’m just a regular guy who likes to take pictures of urban decay. This exploration turned into a small disaster for many reasons and I’m actually still shocked that Michael and I, two of the most experienced foreign urban explorers in Japan, stumbled into this adventure the way we did. But then again… Isn’t the only currency in this bankrupt world what we share with someone else when we are uncool?
Would I go back to the Sunset View Inn Shah Bay with sufficient supplies on a sunny day? Most likely yes. The area looked awesome and the map close to the abandoned viewpoint showed that the resort had more to offer than the cottages and the hotel – there was also a stone garden, a huge fountain, an area for band practice, a gateball course, tennis courts, a sports club house, a BBQ area, some kind of race track and two pools. I had seen the pools on a satellite photo and it really hurt that I missed them. Luckily I was able to take abandoned hotel pool shots later that day when we visited another one of those concrete giants that obviously never get demolished in Japan.
Chances that the Sunset View Inn Shah Bay will get demolished are rather slim, too. Opened in 1986 in the structurally weak north of Okinawa by a successful businessman from Naha (sounds familiar, eh?) the resort went bankrupt and closed in 1995, less than 10 years after the hopeful opening. So no Persian investor as the name might have implied. Shah is actually an old Okinawan / Ryukyuan word, meaning salt – the owner of the resort named the Shah Bay hotek after he saw the term on a map in Matthew Perry’s “The Japan Expedition”. (Matthew Perry as in “the guy who forced Japan to open its ports for foreign ships”, not the “Friends” goofball!) Shah Bay once was the name of the bight at the feet of the hotel, the one that made the sunset view so remarkable, the one that people still try to see from the once so wonderful vantage point…
A place known to the net simply as Okinawa Cactus Park was one of the haikyo I really wanted to see when *Michael Gakuran* and I went to Okinawa earlier this year. The official name of the park was Mexico Cactus Park Sarabanda. It was opened in 1993 and closed in September of 1999, its big Mayan style head becoming an Okinawa urbex icon. The park wasn’t a super spectacular place (although there were 150.000 plants of more than 800 kinds) or a very popular one, but it was unique. I’ve never been to a cactus park before and for sure not to an abandoned one.
When Michael and I drove up to the place I had a very bad feeling – the road and the parking lot were in way too good condition and not blocked at all. As soon as we saw the main building it was pretty clear that we were either at the wrong location or the place had been refurbished / converted. Luckily Michael is a chatty guy fluent in Japanese, so he walked up to the next best person and found out that we were at the right spot at the wrong time. The cactus park, abandoned for more than 10 years, had been reconverted about 1.5 years prior to our visit, unnoticed by the Japanese urbex scene (where I borrowed the term haikyo (ruin) from, just in case you are a rather new reader).
“Cactus Park – Rest in Peace” would have been a more appropriate headline for this article than you might have expected, because the former theme park was actually converted into a graveyard. A gorgeous graveyard I might add. Located at the southern coast of Okinawa the whole area is just beautiful (I marked it on my *Map of Demolished Places in Japan*). And instead of leveling the whole cactus park the architectural office responsible for the new design did a great job using existing structures. All the old roads and paths of the former cactus park were still there, so was the main building at the entrance and a smaller building close to the cliffs, offering a stunning view and a place to rest. The cacti were all removed, except for maybe a dozen on a big rock close to the entrance – traces of the former theme park were there, but we had to look closely to find them.
The new name of the huge area is Okinawa Seimeinooka Park (沖縄清明の丘公園) and it’s a non-profit cemetery not only for all confessions, but for all religions. The barrier-free area has the size of 68830 square meters and offers space for a total of 1.740 graves which strangely correlates to the parking lot with 174 spaces (I assume those 1.740 graves include the spaces of the “joint enshrinement grave”). Each grave has a size between 2 and 15 square meters and costs 140.000 Yen per square meter (one-off) plus 10.000 Yen per year.
Michael and I were both a bit disappointed not to be able to explore an abandoned cactus park, but we agreed that they did a wonderful job converting it. We didn’t spend too much time on the premises, but before we left Michael talked to one of the employees at the beautiful Roman style main building. To my total surprise he found out that there were two cactus parks in the area in the late 90s. This one, the Mexiko Cactus Park Sarabanda, and another one called Himeyuri Park – not to be confused with the Peace Memorial Park and the Himeyuri no To monument. The Himeyuri Park was also closed and abandoned, but not destroyed and reconverted. So off we went to our next adventure on our *trip to Okinawa*…
Abandoned Kansai 