Take me to Mishima

I aborted a semi-planned trip to Tsuwano today because of rain concerns. The concern was, there was rain. The rain didn't stop me from getting up at a quarter of eight though. I charged out of bed, squinted at the computer screen to see if it would rain all day, found out it would and slept until eleven. Perhaps I'll go next week. I hope that I am not too late to catch the fall leaves. If the rain and the cold haven't beaten them down, I'll be lucky.
However, I've picked out another destination for my next unplanned three day weekend. Mishima. It's a small island a hop skip and a jump (read, 50km) off the north coast of Yamaguchi. It's part of Hagi city and takes about an hour by boat to get there. I learned about it from a student the other day. I could discuss the geography, economy, population or the scenery of the island. We'll save that for when I get around to going.
Listening to the student describe the island, what I found most fascinating was its cultural isolation. Mishima people speak a dialect of Japanese that most closely resembles Kyoto Japanese. Many years ago Mishima shared that special relationship with Japan that isolated islands sometimes have with their motherlands. A relationship that England and Australia shared in the past and one that Vashon shares with Washington State today. Mishima was a penal colony. It's my understanding that most of the population, which subsists generally by fishing of general agriculture is the descendants of prisoners from Kyoto shipped over hundreds of years previous.
The island's physical isolation has created a situation where very old traditions can remain, if not intact, at least recontextualized differently than though would have been on the Japanese mainland. This was demonstrated quite interestingly in my student's description of her grandfather's funeral some thirty years previous.
While on the Japanese mainland cremation is the norm, her grandfather was buried. He was dressed in the traditional white kimono and, (as I understand) more traditionally, a white headband with a white cloth triangular ornamentation on the front. The body was then placed, in the fetal position, in a sake cask. The funeral procession wound through the whole town. Everyone dressed in black kimono with banners and sashes embroidered with Chinese characters and dragons. Throughout this whole ceremony his recently widowed wife was not allowed to attend. She was his closest relative and her presence might bring bad spirits or bad luck to visit the ceremony. After the funeral procession made its way back to the family home and the wake commenced. To the best of my students recollection this lasted either three or seven days and nights. Eating, drinking and monks chanting constantly. Then, after the funeral, every week for a period of time a Buddhist priest would visit the home to say prayers and chant.
I apologize for any difference between my transcription of the funerary practices of Mishima and the reality.
I have become enchanted with this isolated and tiny place. I must visit.

Update:
If this guy wants to give better advice on how to run livelier funerals, I invite him to come to Mishima with me.