BBC:
A group of tourists wheel their bulky luggage and wind their way through the crowds in search of the perfect shot.
They huddle on a pavement opposite a convenience store – but this is no ordinary store. Rising behind it is Japan’s highest summit, the majestic Mount Fuji.
The snowy 3,776m-peak forms a stunning backdrop for those in search of their next favourite selfie or instagrammable moment. The visitors got what they wanted – and just in time.
Fast forward a few weeks, to this morning, and that view is gone. The once-busy vantage point – the pavement – is now behind a black mesh screen, about the same length as a cricket pitch.
The barrier is the result of a chorus of complaints from locals, who say their lives have been disrupted by jaywalking and littering tourists.
The picturesque town of Fuji Kawaguchiko has been feeling the impact of a surge in tourism – arrivals to Japan crossed a record three million in March and April, driven up by a weak yen and a post-pandemic travel boom.
The screen is a desperate move and a sign of Japan’s struggle to accommodate this many visitors while protecting its streets, its famous spots and its particular way of living.
It has been an eventful Tuesday in Fuji Kawaguchiko.
Japanese officials had announced in late April that they would be putting up a screen – but the hour of installation brought more attention to this rural corner of central Japan. As workers fixed poles and hung up wires to hold the screen, they were surrounded by a scrum of cameras. Tourists gathered as well, curious to capture the hubbub.
If the screen is meant to keep them away, it isn’t doing that – yet.
Around us, visitors wonder how effective it will be: “It may work for a few days. But I’m sure someone will make a hole [in it] and take a picture at some point,” says Kazakh tourist Yuri Vavilin.
He is disappointed he missed the money shot but he says he shall return tomorrow and try from either end of the screen.
This dedication is surprising to 65-year-old Kazuhiko Iwama who has lived his entire life in Fuji Kawaguchiko. His house sits opposite the ubiquitous convenience store, with its florescent lights and famous blue sign that says Lawson.
“I see it every day from my window, so I really don’t have much to say about it,” he says, looking at the volcano that draws tourists from around the world. “I guess I take it for granted.”
