The Marine Liner train pulled out of Takamatsu station and headed towards the Seto Ohashi (a bridge which stretches across Japan’s Inland Sea for 13.1 km); the day had been a full one.  I could not believe the day had come and gone, but the photos and memories will stay.  Not to mention the friendships that were formed, as well.

Three months prior, when I had booked my flight to Japan, I started thinking about whether beekeeping in Japan would be different from how we in the United States tend, manage and maintain our bees.  Little did I know that an incredibly helpful Japanese teacher my sister knows along with the massive ability of the Internet to connect disparate peoples together would lead to day long meeting and cross-cultural exchange of beekeeping ideas half a world away from my home in Minnesota.

A Google search of Beekeeping in Japan lend me to a BioBees’ article on Syouichi Morimoto (in the photo, above, he is the gentleman standing next me – I am in the orange, if you are wondering).  The article details Morimoto’s beehives and the bees he uses (he is using Apis cerana Japonica, as opposed to Apis mellifera).  I was intrigued by the simplicity of the hives as well as the bees; though, it would be nearly impossible to get Japonica in the United States.

I emailed Morimoto.  No luck.  I wrote a simple note and translated it into Japanese with Google’s Translation Service.  No luck.  My sister was getting excited about my upcoming visit and she asked me if there was anything that I would like to do.  I mentioned Morimoto and his hives.  She said she would talk to her Japanese instructor about writing Morimoto a note.

In the mean time, I started asking random people on Twitter who might have had a contact in Japan about beekeeping.  No luck.  I contacted the  Honeybee Science Research Center at Tamagawa University located in Tokyo.  They replied quickly and were apologetic, but they did not give tours of their facilities to the public.  No luck, again.

Back on the train, passing over Seto Ohashi, I looked at the photos on my camera.  The day had really happened.  I got to hang out with, interact with, and just be myself with seven or eight other guys who, as it turned out, were just like me – mildly introverted, interested in beekeeping, interested in bees, interested in woodworking, kind friendly, and not competitive.  I knew my people existed, but I never thought I would find them in Japan.

My sister’s Japanese teacher and myself worked together on leads.  Hiro, the teacher, emailed Morimoto, but received an email back saying he was very worried about not speaking English and was worried that I would waste my time traveling there if we could not communicate.

Meghann, my sister, set to work finding an interpreter.  Hiro checked with Kanagawa Prefecture’s agricultural department about any contacts for beekeeping groups.  Kanagawa is the prefecture in which my sister and her husband live.  If I recall correctly, Hiro heard back from the agricultural department, but no one in the prefecture was known to be keeping Apis cerana Japonica; everyone was keeping the western Apis mellifera, the same kind that we keep in the United States.

Hiro tried Morimoto, again.  After some prodding, Morimoto agreed, with the condition that an interpreter would be there, to meet.

We had a two hour layover in Okayama where we would pick-up the Shinkansen Superexpress bullet-train to Yokohama – just outside of Tokyo.  I kept thinking about my day and how wonderful it turned out.  The kindness and generosity that Morimoto, Yano, Rocky and the rest of the friends had shown us throughout the day; I was just amazed.

Hiro emailed me – Morimoto wanted to know what were my questions; I told Hiro I would get back to him after some thought.

I keep a multitude of Moleskine notebooks going at any given time.  I generally have one in my Duluth Pack backpack, one or two in our vehicles and one in each of my two jackets.

I jotted down things that would come to mind…

• Is there a snow-season?  Do you need to “overwinter” your hives?
• How can you tell when a hive is “ready” for harvest?
• Why the cross-pieces and not frames like in Langstroth hives?

I had a couple pages of hand-scribbled notes in one Moleskine.  I scanned the pages into images and emailed Hiro.  I worried that my questions would be asinine and simplistic. I am a fatalist at heart; I kept worrying something would derail my two day beekeeping adventure into southwestern Japan.  Would my questions really be good questions?

Meghann, in the meantime, had found an International Society in Takamatsu that offered volunteer interpretation services; you only had to pay for some research time for finding an interpreter, food, and transportation.  Once the Society had lined up an interpreter and had done some legwork for us, it was looking like we would need to pay only ¥8,400 or about $100 US.

Things were falling into place and I only need to get to Japan, and then get to Takamatsu.  Twenty-two hours of travel and I was in Japan.  Now, I just needed for Monday, March 19th, to come up on the calendar.

The Shinkansen Superexpress pulled up to the station and we boarded; finding our seats we settled in for the four hour trip to Yokohama.  Even though the day was long, and there were some language issues with the interpreter, the day was grand and over the top grand.

The 19th rolled in and we headed to the train station in the morning to start our trek to Takamatsu.  For the most part, the trek was uneventful and we wandered the downtown streets of Takamatsu using GoogleMaps to find our hotel.  The next day the fun would begin.

Morning arrived and after breakfast, Morimoto and the interpreter, Toshi, picked us up from the hotel.  We headed to a gas station to meetup with other beekeepers; the plan was to head to Morimoto’s stand of seven hives near an orange grove and give them a look-see.

The hives were much smaller than I had imagined.  They were about a quarter the size of my Langstroth hives.  With only four boxes, they were also shorter than a full Langstroth.

The general idea of the hives is simplicity and the simplicity is where the genus lies.  There are no removable frames, there is no pulling the hives apart for inspection – inspections rely upon a trapdoor on the underside in which you use a digital camera to look up into the hive and tapping on the outside to gauge its fullness of honey and brood.

After visiting the hives, we headed to Morimoto’s workshop.  By workshop, I mean a three story building full of industrial woodworking equipment and lumber.  It was the cleanest, neatest wood shop that I have ever visited.

Morimoto went over my list of questions with me.  He also assembled a hive box for me.  This is about the point where a great day turned into a grand day. Yano, who was a master beekeeper and whose father was a beekeeper pulled out a large knife.  Morimoto sharpened it.  Yano then spoke to the interpreter who then spoke with me; he said, Yano-san wants to give me the knife as a gift.  I was speechless.  I was amazed at the generosity.  Morimoto pulled the interpreter aside to talk to with him.  The interpreter pulled me aside – he was very worried.

“Morimoto-san is wants to know if you would be able to pay shipping on a hive of his if he gave it to you.”

I was dumbfounded.   I said, “Yes, of course I can pay shipping; just tell me how shipping in Japan works.”

We decided the best solution would be to ship the hive and knife to my sister’s house in Zushi where she would then it via the US Postal service back to the United States.

Once we exchanged addresses and phone numbers we headed outside to Morimoto’s ume trees (fruitless plum trees) for some photos.

After a short while, Morimoto and his friend Rocky, who spoke perfect English, took us to the train station.  We bid farewell and headed into the station.

That was the end of a perfect day.