Words by Liz Schaffer & Photographs by Angela Terrell

If it’s paradise you desire, travel no further than the Gotō Islands, a heavenly archipelago in the East China Sea. Here you’ll feast on farm-fresh fare, bask by salty beaches and spy sunsets that enrapture. Yet despite their tranquil splendour, these islands have a tumultuous history. For around 200 years Japan outlawed Christianity, an act that saw many followers - who were unwilling to abandon their faith - move to the Gotōs and continue to practice in secret. When religious persecution was abolished in 1873, the community celebrated by building a striking collection of churches that are UNESCO-protected and rich in floral motifs and pastel flourishes. They are backdropped by tropical forests, fishing villages, swathes of camellia trees and turquoise waters. Nature and design, belief and beauty - nothing here feels out of place.

On my first night on Fukue, one of the Gotōs’ five main islands, I clambered up the volcanic, grass-cloaked Mount Onidake as the sun dipped below the horizon and colour faded from the world; the sky a dazzling pale mosaic, the earth golden, the only sound a chorus of cicadas. I’d climbed Onidake on the advice of Manami Onishi, who owns Oteragoto Hoshoin, a traditional guest room attached to a 200 year old temple. This had been her grandfather’s home and the restoration was inspired by her desire to share the island’s tales and treasures - which includes tableware carved from sugi and camellia trees, made by the artisans of Wan.

Rising from my futon the following morning, I found the garden awash with cerulean butterflies, hypnotically sprightly despite the heat. Even this early the humidity (a deliciously onomatopoeic mushi mushi in Japanese) was staggering, the sort of weather that leads you to crave soft-serve and sandy beaches, the flaxen-hued haze a photographer’s dream.

To escape the warmth I looked to the sea, supping at Ohama Beach, watching the waves at Osezaki Lighthouse and floating rather blissfully at Takahama Beach, before heading to the Tao Coast. The star attraction here is Tao Flat Kitchen, a restaurant found within a restored school building and surrounded by Nordisk Village (a Scandi-esque glamping site), paddy fields, meandering streams and tiny red crabs that scuttle over pathways and up the salt-faded walls of the neighbouring Tao Village. The menu showcases the island’s produce (some supermarkets here are stocked directly by fishermen and farmers) and includes culinary gems like sweet red snapper flavoured with Gotō herbs and fried mackerel that are drenched in vinegar and devoured whole.

Should you walk from Tao Flat back to the water you’ll pass the aromatic Wondertrunk Bakery. While the interiors are rustic-chic, a mix of stone, screens and ornate wooden panels, the fare is undeniably European - think chocolate croissants, mango brioche, lemon and cranberry rolls and baguettes that rival the crunchiest Parisienne creations.

For something more traditional there’s Konne Konne, an izakaya whose summer offerings include palm-sized oysters steamed in sake, al dente Gotō udon made with sea salt and camellia oil, and seared bonito that disappears to nothing on the tongue. More of a living room than a restaurant, the space is filled with an eclectic assortment of sofas, armchairs and wooden tables. The owner’s dogs doze in a corner, a guitar waits to be strummed and staff laugh with all who dine here. Such an atmosphere suits the island perfectly, for this is a place where time slows, people smile and visitors - lulled by the gastronomy, waves and warmth - depart feeling rather convivial indeed.

Our Gotō jaunt was curated by wondertrunk & co.

Copies of our updated Japan magazine, where this article appears, can be ordered here.