New Money

Already back in the beginning of July, the Japanese government has begun to issue new banknotes, the first one to feature English in their design (Bank of Japan). They took a while to trickle down to Kyoto, and even longer to make it into my own wallet, but here they are, courtesy of National Printing Bureau, Independent Administrative Institution (独立行政法人 国立印刷局):

The new 1000 yen bill features Kitasato Shibasaburo (1853 – 1931), a Japanese bacteriologist. While he was sent to Hong Kong during an outbreak of the bubonic plague in 1894, he isolated the bacterium that caused the plague, just days ahead of Alexandre Yersin who is generally (the only one) credited with the discovery.

He was also nominated for the very first Nobel Prize in Medicine, for the work he and Emil von Behring did on the diphtheria antitoxin serum. However, only von Behring received the Nobel Prize for this discovery, probably because Kitasato was only a student at the time.

He kept working on infectious diseases for his entire life, and founded the Kitasato Institute, now a private university for medicine, in Tokyo.

Like the last 5000 yen bill, this one also features a woman: Tsuda Umeko (1864 – 1929), who was educated in the US as a child and later even went to college there. Upon her return to Japan, she became an educator and founded Tsuda Women’s University in Tokyo.

Throughout her life, she was a strong advocator for women’s education and social reform. Interestingly, she was not an advocate of women’s suffrage or even a feminist movement.

Finally, the 10000 yen note shows, quite fittingly, Eiji Shibusawa (1840 – 1931), an industrialist of the Meiji period who introduced capitalism to the country and founded the first modern bank of Japan, which was even allowed to print its own banknotes.

Born into a farmer’s family, his aptitude for finances landed him in the household of the (future) shogun and, after the Meiji Restoration, in the new Ministry of Finance. He resigned in 1873 and, besides the First National Bank, founded more than 500 other corporations, among them the Tokyo Stock Exchange, the Japanese Chamber of Commerce and Industry, Tokyo Gas, and the Imperial Hotel Tokyo, all without holding a controlling stake in them.

Furthermore, he was also involved in projects related to social welfare and education, like the Japan Red Cross, which he founded as well. He was granted the title of viscount and in 1929 was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. Today, he often features in Japanese manga and fiction.

Interesting people! Let’s hope many of them make it into my wallet in the future!

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Haruki Murakami

Cover for "What I talk aobut when I talk about running" by Haruki Murakami

This book delivers exactly what its author says in the foreword: “This is a book in which I have gathered my thoughts about what running has meant to me as a person.”

It was written between summer 2005 and autumn 2006 and comprises nine essays, written in different places and about different races – marathons and triathlons – and the training that went into them. Yet, the essays are not just about running, but are also a memoir about writing and how Murakami became a writer in the first place. His early life as the owner of a music bar was especially interesting; his love for music is undiminished as can be seen in his novels that all seem to have at least one character obsessed with music.

Overall, I’m not sure what to think of this book. I am not a runner and not much of a writer myself, which probably explains a certain detached interest. Murakami is also not very good when writing about himself. He seems to be more at ease in the role of a (self-) chronicler, preferring to keep his deeper thoughts to himself.

Certainly, the subject matter of long-distance running doesn’t lend itself easily to deep philosophical insights, but I also think that the vertical pronoun throws Murakami’s prose off somehow. At least all the “in my opinion’s” that were so obnoxious in his book on writing are less numerous here, which makes him sound much less pompous and more human.

I don’t regret having read this book, but had I not done so, I wouldn’t have missed much either. Try it out for yourself on amazon.

Kakigori

One of the things I have only discovered upon moving to Japan (and which I now believe is sorely missing from European summers) is shaved ice. Extremely refreshing and practically calorie-free, this light dessert is a beloved summer staple for kids and adults alike.

Apparently, the Japanese version of shaved iced, called kakigori, is especially fluffy, and indeed, the consistency reminds me of freshly fallen snow. (Yes, I do know how snow tastes, the best efforts of my grandparents to prevent that notwithstanding…)

Eating shaved ice dates back to the Heian period, when it was an expensive delicacy for aristocrats. It became widely popular (and available) in the 19th century, and today, July 25 is even considered Kakigori Day in Japan.

Traditionally, kakigori was produced by shaving a block of ice using a hand-cranked machine, and some food stalls at local festivals still have one of these (on display, if not in use).

The freshly shaved ice is put in a bowl or cup and sweet syrup is added for flavour. Lemon, strawberry, melon, ramune (a popular old-fashioned type of soda) and many other flavours are available.

A special green tea version with azuki beans and mochi, called ujikintoki, is said to have been invented in Uji city. There is also yakigori where liquor is poured over the ice and then set aflame, but somehow I feel that this goes against the purpose.

As I said, kakigori is ubiquitous in Japanese summer; it is sold everywhere the little flag with the kanji for ice is displayed, from restaurants and cafes to convenience stores all the way to yatai food stalls at festivals.

A personal favourite and the absolute winner when it comes to taste is the kakigori with condensed milk and strawberry jam served in the Saruya tea house at Shimogamo Shrine. And this year, coincidentally, I had one bowl of it right on Kakigori Day!

Ox Day

Today was doyou ushi no hi, which is considered the hottest day in midsummer. The doyou are 18 consecutive days that occur before the change of the season, and traditionally, the summer doyou are associated with the element of fire (for obvious reasons).

The doyou ushi no hi is the day of the ox during this period (sometimes there are two in the same year). It is considered healthy to eat foods with an u in it, for example udon noodles or ume plums are popular.

The #1 food for doyou ushi no hi goes back to the Edo period, however: It’s unagi – eel- sliced down the middle, broiled on a grill and served on a bed of rice. It is one of my favourite dishes regardless of the season. However, since the Japanese eel has become an endangered species, this dish is very expensive and more often than not, the eel is a China import.

In any case, today didn’t quite live up to expectations. It was rainy and rather cool, so no complaints from me. I bet August will be hot and unbearable again…

Seventeen

Hideo Yokoyama

When in August 1985, Japan Airlines Flight 123 crashed into the mountains of Gunma Prefecture, local newspaper reporter Yuuki Kazumasa is thrust into a position of leadership he never wanted: He is now in charge of the entire coverage of the accident, from choosing people to visit the crash site to editing the final articles. But tensions soon arise and never-healed wounds open up again as different departments – editorial, advertising, distribution – vie for influence to promote their own factions. Yuuki soon finds himself crushed between the front lines, but will he be ready to sacrifice his own career for what he believes in?

Once again, Yokoyama sheds light on what happens behind the scenes, but even though Yokoyama worked at a local newspaper at the time of the crash, I found this book lacking compared to SIX FOUR. That’s because arguments in the newsroom turned into physical altercations several times which I thought wasn’t very believable – images of Japanese parliamentarians on each other’s throats notwithstanding.

Also, even though I can believe that processing such an event can take years (Yokoyama even visited the crash site himself), the switching between the 1985 events with Yuuki’s personal rock climbing adventure in 2003 fell short to excite me.

Hideo Yokoyama was born in 1957 in Tokyo. He worked for 12 years as investigative reporter for a regional newspaper in Gunma Prefecture, where he still lives with his wife. His experience with the crash of JAL 123 made him quit the news industry and turn to fiction. He is now a popular writer of crime fiction and his novels are meticulously researched. He has won the annual Prize for Best Japanese Crime Fiction twice.

If you’re in for a dive behind the scenes of a (Japanese) newspaper, you should definitely try this book from amazon.

Perfect Weekend

A very short recap of a very perfect weekend:

Pumpkin and I had our very first overnight visitor! Because it’s Gion Matsuri and Kyoto is practically booked solid, my friend from Tokyo stayed in our guest room – aka upstairs living room. Pumpkin was not very happy about this; he oscillated between anxiety and curiosity. Both of which meant that he was up all night, keeping me the same…

She came down to finally get to the bottom of my BATI-HOLIC obsession and went to their 20th Anniversary concert with me. Well, let’s just say she isn’t into rock music. Which is fine; I’m happy that she at least tried. The photo of lead singer Nakajima is courtesy of my friend, just before she left to have dinner. I had an absolute blast for more than 2 hours, met some old friends and made some new ones… As I said: PERFECT!

Anyway, I am sure you’re pretty tired of my fangirling here already, so I’ll stop… In case you’re not, I wrote an article about 20 Years of BATI-HOLIC for my WUIK newsletter, which actually made it into a (rock) music magazine in Australia of all places. You can read my article in the Heavy Magazine.

After sleeping in and having a relaxed breakfast, my friend and I went to Shisendo, a nearby temple that is always pretty quiet. The gardens are nice, but not spectacular (outside the azalea season that is), but it is a nice place to sit for a while.

In the afternoon, we went to the Insho Domoto Museum, a favourite of mine; their current exhibition is about monochrome ink paintings, and my favourite painting is exhibited as well. I still can’t describe why it makes me feel the way I feel, but it still moves me to tears every time I see it. My friend was quite put out (and not as impressed about this particular painting I might add.)

Anyway, my friend is back in Tokyo, I’m back at home, Pumpkin is back at ease – and at least I had the perfect weekend! Tomorrow is a holiday to boot, so I can sleep in again. I’m very happy!

The Death of the Tea Master

Early this year, I had the opportunity to write an article about Sen-no-Rikyu, Japan’s foremost tea master. Born in 1522, he shaped the Japanese tea ceremony like no other – inventing wabi-sabi on the side. Rikyu rose through the ranks and eventually, he served the country’s leaders Nobunaga and Hideyoshi – until the latter commanded him to commit suicide in 1592.

My article details his life and legacy and was published last month in the 20th issue of EATEN, a print and digital magazine devoted to food history.

The reason I’m sharing this here is because I’m so immensely pleased with the illustrations the editor chose to accompany my piece. They are woodblock prints from 1896 and capture the essence of Rikyu’s tea ceremony perfectly.

As a writer, there is always a bit of apprehension when it comes to images for one’s articles; this is nothing we can influence. When they turn out so wonderfully, it’s cause for extra celebration.

The whole magazine is stunning (a few photos are on the website above) and it’s well worth reading. Other articles in this drink-themed issue center on the connection of NASCAR and bootlegging, how to make the perfect cup of coffee, and it includes a number of recipes enjoyed by Oxford Dons in 1835. Cheers!

Hachidai Jinja

At the end of May, I decided to explore my neighborhood and visit Hachidai Jinja, a famous shrine that dates back to the 13th century, when the whole area was very much outside of Kyoto still. In fact, the Ichijoji village (named after a temple that ceased to exist in 1335) was only incorporated into Kyoto City in 1931. But I digress.

The main deity of the shrine is Susanoo-no-mikoto, the brother of the sun goddess. While Yasaka Jinja (the shrine celebrating Gion Matsuri) is the head shrine for Susanoo, Hachidai Jinja is often called the “northern Yasaka”. Interestingly, Saginomori Jinja, which is even further north, also enshrines Susanoo-no-mikoto, but perhaps he was added to the local pantheon there a bit later.

Hachidai Jinja once had much larger precincts, but today it is fairly small. Passing through a torii, a steep slope leads to the main part, and the main hall (built 1926) lies on top of a few more steps. People come here to pray to exorcise evil spirits, for academic success and matchmaking, among other things.

The shrine is also responsible to provide protection from “directional evil”. It protects the city in particular from evil that comes from the north-east, and was once one of 12 shrines that protected the city.

Nowadays Hachidai Jinja is famous for its connection to a single event: The fight between Miyamoto Musashi and the Yoshioka clan at Sagarimatsu Pine, in 1604. At the time, the pine stood still on the shrine grounds, and it is said that young Musashi went to pray before the fight. However, he changed his mind when he realized that he should only rely upon his own strength and went into battle without prayers. The gods must have favored him regardless, since he was able to wipe out the entire clan during that night.

At the spot of the fight, the fifth descendant of the famous pine still stands to this day; at the shrine itself, the stump of the original tree has been enshrined in a glass case. Next to it, erected only in 2002, stands a statue of Musashi, imagined at only 21 years old (as he was during the fight) and holding his two swords.

It was nice to explore the history of the neighborhood, even though I wouldn’t call the shrine itself spectacular. Unfortunately, even though it is pretty high up in the Higashiyama mountains, there is no view from the precincts; for that you should visit Shisen-do temple just below the shrine. I have done that, of course, and will report about this visit in due course.

The Kyote

A few weeks back, I have discovered a newsletter from a fellow Kyoto denizen who calls himself (or possibly just his newsletter): The Kyote.

It’s a newsletter about what’s going on in Japan at the moment, with a focus on what’s trending on (Japanese) twitter. In the second half, there is a deep(er) dive into a historic crime that shocked Japan at the time (a bit like my Sada Abe case). He publishes every Sunday at 19:00.

This week’s edition is titled “Vibrator* Racing”. Yes, it’s exactly what it means, and yes, it’s a totally serious project. The writer appears to have a certain nerdy humor though… Here’s a little gif:

The link to this particular newsletter with a more detailed explanation is here:
https://thekyote.substack.com/p/14-vibrator-racing
Enjoy…

(Re-) Visit

Last weekend, mostly to get new photos for the “deep dive” feature of my WUIK newsletter, I visited the Garden of Fine Arts again. And: it grows on me.

Part of this is certainly the fact that this time around, I went in the early morning when the sun illuminated the place much better (remember that it’s 2 floors underground) and gave it a more bright and uplifting atmosphere.

The other part is that now I know that the Last Supper and Last Judgement from the Sistine Chapel in Rome were reproduced almost on the original scale. The Last Judgement in particular takes up all three floors of the museum space, and somehow, I can appreciate both paintings much more because of this.

Afterwards, I went to the nearby Kyoto Institute Library and Archives, which I recently (re-) discovered. The entire second floor of the building is just the library with plenty of nooks and crannies to lose yourself in – and books too, of course.

On the first floor, there is a small museum, and this is where I discovered Yasuo Hayashi. He’s now 96, a ceramic artist from Kyoto, and somehow, his works look like MC Escher has discovered the third dimension:

I really enjoyed this exhibition (it’s on until June 9 if you’re in town) and will try to find out more about this artist. Unfortunately, I was not allowed to take photographs, but I got a list of books showing his works that I can get from the library above.