We’ve all been there: Unimaginable things, formerly known as foodstuffs, are hiding in the fridge, the freezer or the food cabinet (aka pantry).
Some of these foodstuffs have the decency to turn into biohazard rather quickly and fairly obviously. Tomatoes. Minced meat. That leftover piece of sushi (how did that even happen?) Others undergo the same process much more slowly and largely stay under the radar. Eggs. Rice and flour. And then there are things that seem to last forever. Case in point: Yoghurt.
I had a truly ancient drinking yoghurt in my fridge, still unopened since I bought it – all the way back in March 2019. Yes, the liquid part had risen to the top of the bottle, but the color of the rest looked good. So: I tried it the other day.
With experiments like these I like to be extra careful. If something looks off or smells off, I don’t need the taste test anymore, into the bin it goes. But after I threw away the protective liquid on top of the bottle, the yoghurt seemed fine, so out came the spoon.
The result: A perfectly fine yoghurt, wonderfully creamy, a bit sweeter than I had remembered the taste, but perfectly edible. Since this started out as a drink yoghurt, I had to cut the bottle in half to get to all of it, but other than that, no surprises, and I had a nice breakfast in the end.
Of course, I didn’t set out to do such an experiment; why I even took the yoghurt along in the first place -remember that I moved here in 2021 – I don’t even know. But it does go to show that expiration dates are not all they are made out to be, sometimes at least. So, I certainly don’t recommend clogging up your fridge with old food, but… I still think it was worth it.
I do think I’ll have to toss the miso, though. However, there’s still that tofu I bought when I lived in my old apartment…
Since its founding, Kyoto has been a hotbed for artists and craftspeople, and not even the move of the government to Tokyo could change that. While Kyoto’s number one craft remains the textile industry, numerous other artists have found a welcoming home here.
One of these was Kawai Kanjiro, one of the best-known ceramic artists from Kyoto. Although, technically, he is not a Kyoto person, since he was born in Shimane prefecture and only moved to the city after graduating. However, he lived and worked the rest of his life in Kyoto’s Gojozaka area, where he established his pottery workshop and rose to international fame. But let’s start at the beginning of his career.
Already at age 16, Kanjiro decided to become a potter and started to pursue this career. After having graduated from the Department of Ceramic Industry of what is now known as the Tokyo Institute of Technology, he moved to Kyoto to study at the Ceramic Research Institute and there acquired the scientific, chemical basics of making pottery.
However, the purely academic-theoretical approach did not satisfy him, so he taught himself the use of natural glazes and traditional methods used in Japan, China, and Korea. When he was 30, he bought a climbing kiln – a noborigama – at Gojozaka and put his knowledge into action in what is now known as his first period.
Yet, he was still not satisfied and felt that something was missing. Together with Yanagi Soetsu and Hamada Shoji, he founded the Mingei movement, a kind of back-to-the-roots of Japanese folk art, complete with Folk Crafts Museum in Tokyo (established in 1936). This second period is marked by pieces that are reminiscent of Japanese folk art – not just in design, but also in technique.
At this time, Kanjiro also began to write poetry and essays and started to experiment with other forms of expression. After WWII, in what became his third period, he also taught himself wood carving techniques. A number of large-scale pieces survived and they are marked by a shift towards more abstract designs.
Although Kawai Kanjiro soon became well-known in Japan and even abroad, he was not interested in personal fame. He rarely signed his pieces, noting that his style should speak for itself; he also eschewed taking part in prize events. The two Grand Prix Prizes at international exhibitions he received were due to friends submitting his pieces. Kanjiro also declined many honors of the Japanese government, like being named a “Living National Treasure”, which is one of the highest distinctions for Japanese artists.
Kawai Kanjiro died in 1966, but his adopted heir Hirotsugu, as well as his nephew Takeichi and his son Toru continued the family tradition of mingei pottery.
The former residence and workshop of Kawai Kanjiro, located in the Gojozaka neighborhood, the traditional potter’s district of Kyoto, opened as a museum in 1973. It was designed and remodeled by Kawai Kanjiro himself in 1937 and differs from the many machiya merchant houses of Kyoto in important ways. First of all, it was modeled after classical rural cottages rather than urban town houses, additionally, it shows some Western influences. The large room near the entrance, for example, has a wooden floor on one side and slightly raised tatami on the other, with a traditional irori sunken hearth as the centerpiece.
The house is quite large, and most of the rooms are accessible. At the rear of the house lies Kawai’s workshop where he created his pottery together with his son and apprentices. Also preserved and accessible is the large noborigama climbing kiln that has eight chambers and was built on/into the slope behind the house.
Three days of rain over the weekend and the temperature dropped by 10 degrees or so. Tuesday morning 9 am, it was 9 degrees in my bedroom. Good for the autumn colors. Not good for me, and Pumpkin is freezing too.
So, as every year around this time, I do what all the Japanese do: I pulled out my thick winter duvet and the fluffy pad that goes underneath the sheet. And then, I moved my futon to a smaller room.
This year, I’m trying the smallest room in the house, the one I have designated as my “reading room”, but which so far only houses my laundry. It’s on the second floor, faces south and is only three tatami in size.
As you can see, once the futon is in, lamp and nightstand besides it, and the heater has found its place, there is not much space left. I’m glad I’m not prone to tossing and turning during my sleep. Or sleep walking, that is.
Pumpkin was quite surprised about the new arrangements, but he adapted in no time. He’s now happily snuggling up next to me every night – underneath the covers, of course.
The only thing that isn’t good about this winter bedroom is that I have to sleep very close to the fusuma doors. And I need to keep them open so Pumpkin can leave during the night. And the draught coming in may be the reason why I have a stiff neck already… Then again, the fusuma are old and don’t close properly in any case. At least the windows are tight here. I hope it won’t get too cold in the next few months…
Whew, I’ve been quite busy last week. My usual flurry of deadlines at the end of the month was enhanced by a couple additional ones, but I managed to get through them all on time. Rinse and repeat later this month…
On top of work-related business, I also put in some work in my garden because now seems the best time for some maintenance. Back in spring, I cut off some of the tallest branches already, but not only did they regrow over summer, the additional light their absence created let other plants shoot up to new heights as well.
This time, I took a much more brutal approach to gardening. My tiny garden has lots of large plants with big leaves that overwhelm what little space there is. But over the last few weeks, I got rid of most of them. I was even able to tear out the roots of those annoying vines that swamp one corner of my garden every summer. Interestingly, it was fairly easy now – in spring it was practically impossible – and since I tore off roots that were thumbs-thick, I hope I got most of the major ones so they won’t regrow again next year.
There are still things left to clear up and cut away, but overall, I’ve made good progress. Right now, the garden looks almost naked, but I want to plant smaller flowering bushes or something like that. Plus: some grass for Pumpkin, which he can later throw up again all over my staircase…
But there’s no rush, I have all winter to think about the details here.
Japan’s long history was shaped by the warrior class and there are many samurai whose fame has reached outside of Japan as well. One of these, Minamoto no Yoshitsune (1159–1189), is still revered as one of Japan’s greatest warriors, and numerous true stories as well as legends are centered around him, most certainly the reason for his enduring popularity.
Yoshitsune – whose childhood name was Ushiwakamaru – was born around 1159, in the late Heian period. His father Yoshitomo was the head of the Minamoto clan, a powerful noble family deeply rooted at court. When his father was killed in a rebellion in 1160, Yoshitsune had to flee Kyoto with his mother. Turning 10 years old, he was placed in the care of the monks at Kuramadera in the northern part of Kyoto. According to a popular legend, he there received training from Sōjōbō, the king of the tengu who lived in the mountains surrounding the temple.
Be that as it may, fact is, that Yoshitsune was an accomplished swordsman from a young age, so much so that he defeated the famous (and much older) warrior monk Benkei in a duel at Gojo Bridge. Benkei promptly became Yoshitsune’s retainer and would fight side-by-side with him until the very end.
From 1180 to 1185, both fought for Yoshitsune’s brother Yoritomo in the Genpei war against the Taira clan. This war was immortalized in the Heike Monogatari, where Yoshitsune’s exploits take up most of the 3rd part of the story. He was a successful general and eventually led the Minamoto to victory at the final battle at Dan-no-ura in 1185.
Sadly, his success did him no good. His brother Yoritomo, established as head of the Minamoto clan, was jealous of the younger Yoshitsune’s popularity and feared that he might be deposed by him in the long run. He conspired against Yoshitsune, who was finally betrayed in 1189 and forced to commit suicide, with Benkei defending him to the last and dying with him. Today, Yoshitsune is enshrined at Shirahata Jinja in Fujisawa.
As mentioned above, many legends surround Yoshitsune and he was very popular among the people. For example, it is said that he escaped his forced suicide and made his way up to Hokkaido, or even farther to the Asian continent, where he re-emerged as none other than Genghis Khan. Many of the stories from the Heike Monogatari were turned into Noh plays and have inspired visual artists for centuries.
These are five novellas about (forbidden) love from 17th century Japan.
Seijuro in Himeji loses his father’s (financial) support and, instead of spending his time in the local pleasure districts, has to find serious work. There, he promptly seduces his master’s daughter Omatsu…
The Barrelmaker Brimful of Love tells of a happy marriage between two people from its beginning to the tragic end of Osen and her lover…
What the Seasons Brought the Almanac Maker is another happy marriage destroyed by an adulterous prank instigated by Osan, the wife…
The Greengrocer’s Daughter with a Bundle of Love meets a dashing young man after a fire burned down her house. When Oshichi loses sight of him, she is ready to commit a serious crime to see him again…
Gengobei, the Mountain of Love, is a samurai from Satsuma who only loves young boys. Enter Oman, who is determined to change his ways for her own happily ever after.
These five stories are filled with eroticism, even though they are quite tame from our modern perspective. What makes them special – groundbreaking in fact, when they were written – is the detailed depiction of the life and affairs of Japan’s lower class townspeople in the Edo period. At that time, having an affair outside of one’s class (in general: with a higher-class woman) was forbidden and punishable by death. Yet, four of five women carry on such affairs regardless, and seem to take their inevitable punishment in their stride.
All five stories are based on real events that often happened just a few years earlier. This familiarity to the readers may have been one reason why they were instant bestsellers – the other one being the eroticism – and Saikaku quickly became one of Japan’s best-known novelists and poets of the time.
Saikaku Ihara (1641 – 1693) was a citizen of Osaka, then as now one of Japan’s commercial centers with a thriving population. He was one of the first to write exclusively of the chonin, the townspeople and their (love) affairs, and he was extremely popular among the people.
Contemporary writers found his style less appealing: Basho famously thought Saikaku’s style vulgar and uninspired, for example. In any case, Saikaku was very prolific and known for his marathon poetry performances, where he composed hundreds of poems on the spot. The “Five Women” were published in 1686 and remain one of his most popular pieces.
If you’re in for something … well, not really erotic, but depicting “real” life in 17th century Japan, get this one from amazon.
In the last couple of weeks the evenings became quite cool. I’ve changed my clothing and my duvet too, and even Pumpkin sleeps under his blanket much of the time. The days are still nice and sunny, so the koyo will be a few more weeks, the final sign for me to move my futon into a smaller room for the winter.
Two weeks ago, a friend invited me to an exhibition of watercolor flowers; she also had two of her paintings shown. It was an exhibition of hobby painters, but the teacher is a professional who specializes in realistic paintings of flowers. His pieces are incredibly detailed with strong colors, and according to my friend, he always works with real flowers, so all of his paintings are unique.
I was very impressed by a small, post-card sized painting of a single momiji maple leaf, bright red with but tiny spots of withered brown, set in a dark blue frame. My friend and I wondered how long it might take to paint such a picture, but we couldn’t come to a conclusion, so we left it there.
Or rather: I did, because fast forward a week and my friend presented me with her own take on “autumn leaf”. She said it took her roughly 30 minutes to finish, so I’m guessing the master can do it in maybe half the time. In any case, all I need now is a frame.
In Japan, being, or at least: seeming “genki” and able to “ganbatte” at all times is very important. Of course, the hapless salaryman sitting at a desk for long hours of mind-numbing tasks needs the occasional pick-me-up.
Enter Japanese Energydrinks like these:
These particular bottles contain just a few sips of taurine or caffeine-infused drinks, and they can be found pretty much everywhere. The largest variety to be bought offline seems to be available in convenience stores, I guess that’s where many office workers go for a short break anyway. Of course, there are different prices to these energy drinks, depending on the quality and possibly the amount of the supplement contained.
What I found interesting is that they were less sweet than I had expected; so far, my exposure to energy drinks was limited to Red Bull (yes yes, the Austrian connection here). I’m not sure if I keep drinking those because at least caffeine doesn’t do anything for/with me – I could drink a cup of coffee now and go straight to bed without problems.
On the other hand, these little bottles were a gift from a friend of mine – is it a good sign if your friends think you could do with more energy?
It was a busy week with a great finale! Yesterday was Okafes, the World Music Festival in Kyoto’s Okazaki, and I spent most of my day there. The Okafes is an outdoors festival that invites musicians and dancers from Bali, Korea, Thailand, and of course, Japan to perform traditional music. It’s fun to watch and learn something new!
The highlight this year was Apetunpe, a female duo from Hokkaido singing Ainu tunes. Interestingly, they had no instruments, and the songs they brought along were canons (aka rounds) with a strong rhythm, which surprised me. Of course, they sing in the Ainu language, but even though I couldn’t understand anything, their soothing music touched me deeply.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t find Apetunpe on youtube, but it seems that they are a part of a larger group called Marewrew, and they do have a few albums online. Here is Sikata Kuykuy, with a significantly more happy sound than what they performed yesterday.
Sorry for not writing yesterday, I was out all afternoon and came home soaking wet after dark. But since it’s a holiday today (Sports Day), I had some time for a recap. As you may know, thanks to WUIK, I count as “member of the press” and so I got a preview for the special exhibition “All About Toji” that started today. The preview lasted four hours, and it was worth every second, despite all the rain. Below are my impressions and some photos I took yesterday.
From 794, Toji, the “Western Temple” and its 5-story pagoda marked the entrance to Heian-kyo, the then-new capital of Japan. Today it still stands (unlike its sister temple to the east) just south of Kyoto station, and this month, it celebrates the 1200 anniversary of Shingon Buddhism.
The monk Kukai, after his death revered as Kobo Daishi, was given Toji temple in 823 and expanded it greatly. He also oversaw the construction of several buildings, among them the pagoda that is now a landmark of Kyoto. Although there are several large temples in Kyoto affiliated to Shingon Buddhism, Toji remains the headquarters of Shingon Buddhism to this day.
Sadly, most of the temple’s original buildings were destroyed one time or another by earthquakes, typhoons, or fires. They have been rebuilt, however, sometimes even according to old plans, and many now count among Japan’s National Treasures.
The preview started out with a short press conference in a building adjacent to the abbot’s quarters. While it looks fairly recent outside and has a lovely garden, I was taken by the modern paintings on top of the fusuma. They reminded me of Insho Domoto, but were actually by a contemporary artist called Taisuke Hamada.
We were then free to walk the temple grounds. First stop: The Miedo, aka Daishi-in, which was originally the residence of Kobo Daishi, even though the current building is from 1390. Instead of a Buddha, it has a statue of Kobo Daishi; people come and worship him all the same.
The Homotsukan temple museum is home to temple treasures. This time, letters from Kukai are on display, as well as letters from emperors to the temple and some treasured mandala. For me, however, the most spectacular exhibit was on the second floor: an enormous 6m-tall statue of Kannon, Goddess of Mercy, with her 1000 arms. The statue was once housed in another building, but was greatly damaged when a fire destroyed the hall. It took years to reconstruct her, and one can only imagine how impressive it must have looked like before the fire.
The sub-temple Kanchin-in was home to the temple’s guest house, built in 1359. It is a very large complex with interlocking building and boasts wall paintings by one of its famous guests: Miyamoto Musashi. The eagle painting shows its age, but the bamboo still looks fresh. I liked the little gardens that are fit between the buildings, and in a more modern part that has several tearooms, there were more paintings by Taisuke Hamada, this time depicting seasonal scenes.
The main part of Toji Temple consists of three buildings in a large garden: The Kodo Lecture Hall was established by Kobo Daishi in 825; the current building is from 1491. Inside is an unusual three-dimensional mandala with 20 Buddhist statues, also created by Kobo Daishi and all centred around a seated Dainichi Nyorai. Personally, I prefer the statues of the so-called Wisdom Kings, they are much more dynamic in expression and posture than the serene seated Buddhas.
Three Buddhas make up the entire interior furnishings of the Kondo Main Hall, just south of the Kodo, which was commissioned by Hideyori in 1603. It shows the distinct architectural style of the Momoyama period.
The 5-storied pagoda is the symbol of Toji Temple and one of Kyoto’s landmarks. The current one is from 1644, built under the 3rd Tokugawa Shogun, Iemitsu. Its shock-absorbing construction is said to have inspired similar designs used in Tokyo’s Skytree. On the ground floor, are four seated Buddha statues, each facing a different cardinal direction. The interior of the pagoda is covered in colourful patterns and paintings, in stark contrast to its dark and sombre exterior. I wonder what the other floors may have inside, but these are off limits at all times.
Finally, there were two more exhibitions of beautiful close-up photographs of statues and buildings of Toji temple which I greatly admired – I wish I could take photos like these. There were also two brand-new mandalas by a contemporary artist, which, to be honest, I didn’t find that good, but they were dedicated to the temple on this day.
For me, the best things were the Kannon statue, the 3D mandala and the interior of the pagoda as well as Kanchiin House as a whole. It was my first time entering the buildings of Toji Temple and I can wholeheartedly recommend it!
If you’re in Kyoto this October, do take the time to visit this exhibition “All About Toji” where you can see all this with a single ticket and a special audio guide in English.
