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I decided to go to Atami just a week before JLPT and after my breakup. Atami found me at a time when I needed stillness and healing. Lately my life in Tokyo had become a blur of crowded trains, meaningless relationships, endless Japanese homeworks, and an unspoken loneliness that nobody could soothe. Then I decided to break up with the guy I love with all my life. When I recalled my memories with him back, Atami just appeared and I couldn’t say no. No plans, nothing, just me with a small backpack, and a hope that the ocean might untangle the knots in my chest.  

How I go to Atami:

Instead of taking Shinkansen, I chose a more budget friendly way to go to Atami:
– I took the Odakyu line from Shinjuku Station to Odawara Station. It took me around 1hr30mins.
– At Odawara station, I changed to Tokaido line to go to Atami Station. It took me around 23mins with 5 stops.
It costed me 1400en and 2hrs of traveling in total. Pretty good when you’re on budget. But you can always take the Shinkansen which costs around 3700 en and 45mins to get there.

At Imamiya shrine, I had a conversation with the Divine. The deities enshrined are Okuninushi no Okami and Kotoshironushi no Okami. It was founded long time ago, during the reign of Emperor Nintoku. Lord Minamoto no Yoritomo has been workshiped here for centuries and this shrine is famous for wish fulfillment. This shrine saved Lord Yoritomo’s life. The name Imamiya contains the meaning of ‘a shrine where new divine power resides’ and so far this shrine has supported the lives of local community.

I’ve never been religious, but shrines have always felt like places where the air is clearer, where prayers are actually be heard. At this shrine, I stood before the altar, hands pressed together, and whispered: “I don’t know what I’m asking for. My heart is heavy so please!”

I met a beautiful miko who was tending to the offerings. When I asked about the shrine’s history, she told me that “People come here when they’re lost and the kami of this place give them redirections.”

She guided me to write a wish and hang it on the bamboo tree. It was Tanabata the day I came, and hopefully my wish comes true.

For some reasons, I felt like she could see the crossroads in my soul. And she knew what my heart desired at that moment.

My next stop was Kinomiya Shrine. And the tree that remembered me.

Kinomiya Shrine is an ancient embrace for it enshrined Isotake no Mikoto, the God that conveyed a divine message to protect local people and travelers. The sacred tree – the Okusu, which has been designated a national natural monument is over 2000 years old.

This tree looked like it had witnessed lifetimes. I circled it seven times, as tradition dictates, each step a silent confession:  

1. I’m tired.

2. I’m lost.

3. I miss who I was.

4. I don’t know which path I should take.

5. I want to believe in something.  

6. This is me trying. 

7. Thank you for listening. 

When I pressed my palm to its bark, I could sense a bolt of enlightenment. I felt like I knew something. As if the tree was saying to me “I see you. That’s enough for now.” 

I went to the beach after checking in. I stayed in a small guest house near by the beach, only took me 2 mins to walk to Atami Sun Beach. I walked to the sea and enjoyed a peaceful afternoon there. I cried while soaking my bare foot into the sea—not out of sadness, but because the cool water made me realize how harsh I’d been to myself. Let the wind and the sea washed away all the pain of yesterday. I realized then how rarely I let myself be alone without feeling lonely.  

I came back to Kinomiya Shrine the next day. Just sat still at the rooftop cafe to rearrange my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, you don’t need a grand adventure. You just need:  

– A quiet place where the sea meets the sky. 

– A tree old enough to hold your sorrows and to tell you that you are listened.

– A stranger’s kindness at a strange place that feels like fate.  

– A moment to remember who you are and who you will be.

On the train home, I stared at my reflection in the window—same face, but something behind my eyes felt softer but more consistent. Maybe it was the sea. Maybe it was the kami. Maybe it was just the act of releasing my sadness and surrendering to God.  

Atami didn’t solve my problems. Atami gave me what I needed most: A reminder that healing isn’t a destination. It’s the pauses in between. And healing can never happen over night. Believing is seeing, not the way around.