We’re on the bus from Matsue to Hiroshima rolling past green valleys between jagged hills that are utterly tree covered. It’s very green here in Shimane Prefecture; a multitude of different deciduous and evergreens carpet almost every hill. This verdant landscape is so much greener and more varied than anything we’ve yet encountered on our travels. It’s comparable in its own way to the green and pleasant hills of England and Wales, except that the forests are all in tact; there’s far, far less cultivation of the hills here. I look to my left, and through the window see a valley of evergreen trees; they’re well-spaced, perfectly manicured examples that almost look like they’ve been cultivated that way; except they haven’t been, they just grow that way. Alex points out the bamboo out to me; I hadn’t noticed them before because they are trees; I had always thought of bamboo as a bush, but these bamboo are trees, often taller than the surrounding firs and pines, oaks and cedar, their heads bowed over in welcoming deference to us as we pass.