Japan in Brief

            

 

 

Our tour group was composed of veterans of African safaris, Mediterranean cruises, and other sophisticated travelers. Hardy folk, it seemed, and maybe more sophisticated than I. But I overheard the following comments as we gathered in the lobby of our Tokyo hotel for our first dinner together: "I can't have anything with mushrooms or green peppers..." "How is the chicken cooked..." Ah, maybe I'm not so out of place.

 The first thing that struck me about Tokyo was its lack of a distinctive, defining architectural feature such as the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, or the Colosseum. I’m assuming that is the result of its having been almost completely burned down in World War II. Modern and cosmopolitan, busy and choked with modern skyscrapers, it seemed somewhat generic to me, at least until we toured the Yanaka and Ueno quarters, which were spared the wartime destruction.

Navigating Tokyo on foot – never mind in a vehicle – is surreal. Yes, the streets are generally laid out in grid form, but other than major thoroughfares, they are not marked with street signs.

Instead, the city is divided into numbered blocks, and at each corner the buildings bear the number of the block. That is the way people get around and mail is addressed. I was immensely grateful for Google Maps.

 

                                 

I don’t mind eels                         
Except as meals
And the way they feels.

        Ogden Nash 

 Our first major tourist experience was the Tsukiji Market, Tokyo’s famous fish market.  I was reminded of the Lower East Side as we squeezed our way through narrow aisles between displays of marine lifelessness.  We watched – briefly – as dried bonito fish were ground up into the flakes that are a standard in Japanese cuisine.  (So they say, but I don’t recall eating any, which may be for the better.)  The lunch, however, at one of the hole-in-the-wall cafeterias lining the street outside the market, was delicious; I’ll long remember the tuna sashimi that almost melted in my mouth. 

 

Some random photos:

             

 

 

The after-lunch activity was a walk through the older quarters and visiting a bonsai museum and nursery.  The bonsai master proudly showed off centuries-old miniature trees, like this one.  It’s a fascinating art form, but I couldn’t help wondering why it was an obsession, until I remembered the 3 successive bonsais that died in my attempt to cultivate them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On different day, we again visited the older quarters, including Yanaka, where a puppet master explained his traditional trade and put on a few short skits.

The theme of the tour was the cultural treasures of Japan; the puppets are quite sophisticated – no Pinocchio here – and were masterfully manipulated.  Spot the Elvis puppet…

While in Tokyo, we took a day trip to Kamakura. The city was the first headquarters of the Shogunate, Japan’s feudal period where the emperor held merely ceremonial power and actual power was in the hands of successive warlords.  There’s an impressive castle and a main shopping street lined with souvenir shops, gift shops, snack stands, and cafes.  Japanese tourists outnumbered foreigners, with lots of school groups represented.

There’s a giant bronze Buddha that one can walk through (for a fee).  Impressive it is, but walking through it reminded me of nothing spiritual; rather, I recalled walking through the model of a human heart in the Franklin Museum in Philadelphia when I was 9 years old.  The area includes a temple to Kannon, the Japanese name for the bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, worshipped as the goddess of mercy.  She the source of the name for "Canon," the camera company, according to our guide.  I left it to Google to supply photographs for those interested.

I found the Tsurugaoka Hachiman Shrine, which we visited next, to be much more appealing.  “Shrines” mean Shinto religious spaces, as Mori, our excellent guide, explained; “temples” refer to Buddhist houses of worship.  The shrine covers several acres and there are places for different ceremonial activities in the compound. 

  

Approach is via a broad island
in the center of the boulevard
leading to the shrine.

A Shinto priest performs a ritual for a family. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We saw quite a few little kids in traditional outfits. Mori told us that there are Shinto ceremonies for children at different ages as they grow up, and there were plenty of proud parents and grandparents photographing their offspring, some of whom looked happier than others.

 

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Imagine having to have 3 (or more) bar/bat mitzvahs as you’re growing up, I thought as I photographed these cute kids.  By the way, the white shapes in the background of the little girl’s photo are barrels of sake, given to the priests as offerings.  Mori assured us they were all empty.

 

 

 That evening, back in Tokyo, we were on our own for dinner.  On the recommendation of our guide, a few of us went to a local restaurant that featured traditional music and dance by members of the staff.  We were the only foreigners there for a while, and the staff invited us to pose with them after the performance.  Their friendly spontaneity smashed any stereotypes of aloofness and “inscrutability” that used to be bandied about the Japanese.

 

The following day (Oct. 27), we met two retired sumo wrestlers at their local clubhouse and got a history of the sport and an inside view of the athletes’ lives.  Sumo started way back before the first millennium as a ritual to thank the gods at harvest time.  It’s very popular; matches were displayed on public TVs at railway stations and other venues.

There are about 600 wrestlers in Japan, they told us; they belong to several associations, each of which maintains living quarters for member wrestlers, and manages their personal lives for their entire careers.  They were in the sport for about 20 years apiece.  They’ve lost around ½ their former weight -- and look a good 10 years older than their respective ages of 38 and 48.  They freely acknowledged that theirs is an unhealthful lifestyle.  They must constantly eat huge quantities, even if their bodies rebel.  Nevertheless, they cooked and served us a plentiful lunch and cheerfully posed for photos.

After parting from the sumo wrestlers, we visited the Meiji Shrine (Mori began to refer to our tour outfit, Overseas Adventure Travel, as “O, Another Temple.”)  The fun part of the visit was getting your fortune.  You pay 100 yen (about 66 cents) and draw a bamboo stick from a cup.  The stick has a number on it, which sends you to the corresponding number on the stacks of drawers.  Open the drawer and pull out a piece of paper with your fortune.

Mine was ruthless:

“Your request will not be granted.  The patient keeps bed [sic] long.  The lost article will not be found.  The person you wait for will not come over.  You had better to stop build [sic] a new house and the removal [sic].  You should stop to start a trip.  Marriage of any kind and new employment are both bad.”

With a sigh of resignation, I bravely squared my shoulders, folded the paper and tied it to the rack nearby where bad fortunes are left behind.

 

Our next cultural experience, on Oct. 29, was taiko drumming.  I’d been interested in that art form since the ‘90s, when a group had performed at Carnegie Hall.  It’s a primal sound collection and doing the actual drumming is quite a workout.  We managed to create a decent rhythm under our instructor’s energetic tutelage.

  

On Oct. 30, we checked out of Tokyo and headed by bus to Hakone, a resort town in the mountains on the shores of Lake Ashi, which is formed by the caldera of an extinct volcano.  Being away from the skyscrapers and cloudy skies gave us opportunities to photograph iconic Mt. Fuji when it wasn’t coyly disappearing in cloud and fog.

We stopped at a farm for a tour and lunch.  Kaisei is an 8-acre farm, rather typical of Japanese agriculture, which is beset by a shrinking base of aging farmers and the inefficiencies of small scale.  The family-owned farm is focused on producing extra-fine macha (green tea) and extra-fine strains of rice.  We were treated to a detailed presentation on tea and a home-cooked lunch of tempura all produced on the farm: rice, salad greens, eggplant, sweet potatoes, carrots, and onions.  While American country music played in the background, I was happy to note that Japanese visitors were at the tables alongside us, indicating this was not just another foreign tourist stop, but was also a day’s outing for the Japanese themselves.  We also sampled macha in many forms: tea, beer, soda, and a macha jello-style dessert.  I recommend sticking with the tea.

We picked a few last remaining tea leaves; the harvest was long over. The bushes will be trimmed for new growth next year.

And so, to our lakeshore hotel.  The pergola in the foreground looks more appropriate for Club Med but getting a shot with Mt. Fuji in the background is irresistible, no matter what the foreground.

Hakone has historical significance.  The Hakone Checkpoint (below) controlled travel between Edo (the historical name for Tokyo) and Kyoto during the Edo period.  It was a crucial security facility with strict rules, such as inspecting travel permits and preventing weapons and women from leaving the area.  Samuris’ wives were often kept in Edo as hostages to prevent rebellion.  The checkpoint has been faithfully reconstructed and functions as a museum.

I began imagining all kinds of plots for smuggling people and goods through the checkpoints and I peppered Mori with questions about how guards could recognize women who tried to slip through.  I imagine more than one Japanese historical novel featured such a plot.

 

 

 

More Mt. Fuji: 

         

             A relaxing ferry ride.

              

 

 

On the outskirts of the town is a workshop producing wood inlays in many forms: boxes, bowls, trays, decorative plaques, even jewelry (I bought a pair of wooden inlay earrings).  The master greeted us in his workshop and demonstrated how the intricate designs are produced using solely natural wood, not painted or stained.  This view is across the street from his house.  I really liked seeing the off-the-beaten-track Japan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Traditional dress is being more frequently worn outside Tokyo, Mori told us.  Even some men are wearing older outfits; I saw a couple in kimonos in Kamakura and one natty fellow dressed in 1920s style – and it wasn’t even Hallowe’en yet (yes, I noticed Hallowe’en and Christmas decorations in some of the department stores!).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess no examination of Japanese culture can omit geishas, and in Hakone we attended a presentation by two local geisha.  Suzuko has been a geisha for 30 years; her colleague, Meiko, is younger.  Their profession has been inaccurately portrayed in lurid terms at times; what it really is is like hostessing.  Their most important job is to talk and make a pleasant atmosphere.  Their skills are especially valued in business meetings.  Sometimes, they told us, even groups of women will ask a geisha to attend a “hen party” so as to enhance the event.  In Hakone alone, they said, there are 140 geishas who belong to 30 “houses,” somewhat like the sumo wrestlers’ associations, I guess.  Since Hakone’s a resort town, I imagine there is a steady schedule of parties and meetings for geishas to liven up.

  

 

 

 

 

 In the lobby of the hotel where we met with the geishas, a used-clothing sale was going on.  While a few of us rummaged through the racks, I managed to discreetly photograph this family, no doubt loving grandma and mama out with their little girl.

Besides the checkpoint and the lake, Hakone is famous for hot springs, and we were assured that we’d have access to one from our hotel.  It turned out that my vision of sitting outside admiring nature from the comfort of a warm soak in a brook was way off base.  Instead, naturally hot water was piped into large bathing pools on the upper floors of the hotel.  Men and women used separate floors, and our rooms were equipped with bathrobes and slippers so we could head off to the baths without extra clothing. One is required to shower completely before entering the tub and must not dunk one’s head into the water.  Soaking in the pool was, as with any such pool, delightful but not as hot as an average hot tub.  A large picture window gave us a good look at Lake Ashi and Mt. Fuji – although for much of the time we were there it was raining.

Back on the road… Nature in Japan is, I think, one of the country’s strongest points.

  

On to Kanazawa (Nov. 1) by shinkansen, Japan’s famous “bullet train.”  To me, it was just another train ride (as train buffs wince in pain).  Kanazawa immediately struck me as much more relaxed than Tokyo – well, it would be, wouldn’t it, given that its population is 500,000.  On our free night, a few of us had a great time trying to buy gelato in a small shop where the language barrier was complete.  Pointing and gesturing, the precursors of human language, came in handy.

 

Kanazawa is famous for the Kenrokuen Garden, a vast pastoral place, with pines so ancient and revered that they are supported by logs.  It was teeming rain – not the best weather for a garden tour.  I took few pictures, then retreated from the wet and cold to the gift shop and cafeteria.

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 Kanazawa has a well-preserved old section, which is charming even in the rain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was happier to get indoors and visit Hakuichi, a company that produces gold-leaf, for which Kanazawa is famous.  Japanese calligraphy does not employ gold leaf, unlike medieval Europe. The pounded sheets (a horribly noisy activity) are used in ceramics, sculptures, even on buildings. For our hands-on experience of Japanese culture, we rubbed gold leaf on small pieces of paper that had been treated with designs drawn with a special adhesive to which the gold leaf stuck.

We also visited a paper-making workshop and made our own scraps out of a slurry composed of mulberry bark.

Left: gold leaf postcard with my own stab at calligraphy (read from top to bottom): “liberty” on the right and “justice” at the left.
    Right: My hand-made washi paper, stamped with selected designs (more on washi, below).

  

The next day, Nov. 3, was a trip out to the country.  Gokayama Village is a UNESCO heritage site, a preserved medieval village, reached by a knuckle-tightening drive on narrow roads through misty mountains resembling the backgrounds in Chinese Sung-era paintings (sorry, Japan, I couldn’t resist bringing in your major cultural rival).  Evergreens predominate; I didn’t make out many deciduous trees.  Autumn colors had barely begun to appear.  The weather continued to be raw and chilly.

Gokayama reminded me of Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts but without the costumed actors.  “Regular” people live there; I assume their main revenue is tourism or outside jobs.  As rain ran down the thatched roofs and dripped from the eaves like a scattering of diamonds, I paid brief respects to the vintage houses and yards.  Getting sodden and chilly by the minute despite my multiple layers of clothing, I took refuge in the general store/souvenir shop.  Not to dismiss the experience: I found the village snug and charming, but not captivating

I was grateful for the afternoon activities, which were indoors. We attended a presentation of mochi preparation. It’s a sweet made from pounded rice mixed with water and sugar or other sweeteners. I learned to like it from Japanese restaurants at home. I dutifully took my turn pounding the rice. 

Then it was more arts and crafts, this time in the washi-making workshop. Washi is a type of paper made from mulberry bark. I was beginning to feel like a camper at arts and crafts as we dipped screens into a trough of mulberry-bark slurry, shook them around, and presented them to the master craftsman for drying on a stainless-steel drum.

Next day was our home visit day. We were divided into small (3-4) groups and parceled out to various homes. Toshi and Nobuko (didn’t catch their last names) live in a lovely single-family home – no mean feat in Japan, where space is at a premium. Toshi is retired, having sold his software-management company to his son. Nobuko teaches the Japanese tea ceremony and practices calligraphy. She showed us her impressive collection of kimonos, some handed down from her mother. They were truly stunning. The couple were quite skilled in English; they had traveled to US. We had been advised to bring small gifts to the visit (I made several hand-painted bookmarks). In exchange, Nobuko wrote our names on sheets of rice paper.                                 

I mounted her work on a piece of cotton I bought later in Kyoto.

On to Kyoto, our last stop, where we stayed from Nov. 5 to the day of my departure. Kyoto is awash with temples, castles, and gardens.

The Arashiyama bamboo forest was really impressive.  I’d never seen bamboo that high and I was struck by the intense quiet, even with the tourists passing through.

Then there was the Tenryu-ji Temple with its magnificent garden.

I soon got “templed-out” and “shrined-out” but I can’t deny the beauty.

 

The photo below is of the Golden Pavilion of the Kinkakuji Temple (another UNESCO heritage site), so-called because of the gold leaf on the walls. Built in the 14th century as a retirement home for a samurai, it was converted to a Shinto shrine. It was burned down in 1950 by a crazy monk and rebuilt in 1955. 





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A day trip to Nara, ancient seat of the emperor, provided the much-anticipated fun from interacting with the deer that populate the Todaiji temple. I’d read about the Sika deer, which are sacred in Shinto. You buy special crackers to feed them, and they are not shy. 



The compound also houses a Buddhist temple - as large as a cathedral - illustrating the uncomplicated interaction between Shinto and Buddhism in Japan. The cathedral (which I think of as a contradiction in terms in connection with Buddhism) houses a gigantic seated bronze Buddha framed by a 16-meter golden mandorla. I found more appealing sights:

 

Back in Kyoto, we attended a presentation of kenbu theater, a samurai tradition of sword dances.  They would perform these around the campfire the night before a battle.  I found the idea of soldiers dancing before a battle to be somewhat odd until I remembered that Plains tribes performed war dances.  I wonder what other cultures perform such pre-battle antics.  Surely medieval knights would never approve.  Along with a few others, I volunteered to demonstrate some basic sword moves at our host’s invitation.  Although I first grasped the sword with my left hand – and it didn’t feel awkward, either – I was able to do a few thrusts without embarrassing myself.  I credit my confidence to tai chi exercises (but didn’t say that out loud).

We spent a pleasant day on Nov. 7 on the Katsura River.  The sun was out and it was reasonably warm.  We boarded river boats propelled by polemen, not by oars or motors, waving at the sunbathers on the rocks along the way.  We disembarked at the foot of one of the mountains that surrounded us and were greeted by a Zen monk arranging gear in the trunk of his minibus.  We’d been briefed on this trek, said to involve a stair of 200 steps.  The minibus was available for those who did not feel up to it.

       

I didn’t bother to check whether there really were 200 steps.  It was not a steep trail at all and the steps varied as to height.  The vista of the mountains forming the river chasm was spectacular; no doubt once the leaves turned, it would be even more gorgeous.

The goal of our climb was the monk’s tea room, where he explained the principles of Zen while preparing and serving tea and mochi.  I’ll confess to having a wandering mind as he delved into the philosophy, which can be summed up as "accept and let it go" as a way of dealing with life’s twists and turns.  He posed a Zen riddle to us: “Bring Mt. Fuji to this room.”  We each had to answer in turn, as to how to solve that riddle.  In the end, he had to give us the answer: “We are all Mt. Fuji.”  OK, whatever.

Nov. 8 was the day before I and a few other group members returned home.  The rest were staying an extra week to visit Hiroshima and the surrounding area.  For a change (wink, wink), we visited a Shinto shrine, the Fushimi Inari Shrine, which is distinguished by its long row of toriis snaking through the woods.  It reminded me of a Christo art installation.

 

 

We finished the day with a lesson in sushi-making.  Mine doesn’t look too bad in the photo, but when I picked them up to eat them, they invariably fell apart.  Now I can detect a careless sushi-maker when I buy a tray at the supermarket.

 

Now, for the wrap-up: No grand revelations, no eye-opening experiences, but a sense of the strong esthetic sensibility within Japanese culture. Sure, there are significant differences in lifestyles and values, but for a casual traveler the modern amenities (loved 7-11!) made the country accessible, even comfortable.  I'd gladly go back to explore more.