A Drive to the Higashi Ushirobata Rice Terraces Sunset light reflected in the paddy water

I parked in the designated car park and walked to the viewpoint with my friend. At the wooden fence, the rice fields opened out below us, terrace after terrace, with the Sea of Japan beyond. I'd come to watch the sunset, but the sight of the terraces stretching all the way to the sea took my breath away first.

I rested my forearms on the fence and followed the ridges winding down the slope. The fields weren't neat rectangles; some curved as they stretched into the distance. Light shimmered on the water, and I could make out slender rows of young rice. Come during planting season, and it feels as if the sky has found its way into the fields.

My friend pointed toward the sea. “Looks like it's about to set.” When I looked up, the sun was edging toward the headland. I kept looking from the sky to the fields and back out to sea. There was so much to take in that I didn't reach for my phone for a while.

When I finally took a photo, I lowered my phone. The fields kept going beyond the edge of the frame. In person, the curves of the ridges and the sweep all the way to the sea felt so much bigger. I was so glad I'd made the drive out here; my heart felt full.

Even as my friend and I talked about when to head back, I couldn't pull myself away from the fence. The light reflected in the paddies looked different from a moment ago. I turned for one more look, and my friend was gazing down at the terraces too. Neither of us seemed ready to call it a day.

Back at the car park, I opened the packet of egg biscuits I'd bought ahead of time. I took a bite of this Nagato specialty, made with local eggs, before we set off. The crunch of that first bite made it feel like snack time all over again, and my friend and I laughed. Even with my eyes closed, I could still see the light in the paddies, and I wanted to talk about the day again and again on the drive home.