All Things Japanese – Page 24

Summer Pets

While I am still endeavouring to japanify myself, so to speak, there are plenty of Japanese customs I will never make my own. One of the weirder things, which is extremely popular with kids, is to get pets. Yeah, you may think that’s not really weird, I mean, all the kids like pets, but have a look at what I mean and think again:

So, these enormous beetles – a number of different species – are very popular with kids to keep as pets over summer, in fact, you can start buying them now. The children are responsible for feeding them and cleaning their boxes, which is relatively easy I think, and since the beetles will die in autumn, it’s a short-term activity as well.

I am not sure what to think of pets like that. These large beetles – I have seen some up to 10 cm long – are indeed interesting, but at the same time there’s no way I would let one inside my home voluntarily, cage or no cage. I have enough of the bugs that visit me without my permission, thank you so much.

Matsunoo Taisha

Matsunoo Taisha – lovingly called Matsuo-san by the locals – marks the western end of Shijo dori with its large torii. Matsunoo Taisha was established in 701 by Hata-no-Imikitori, the head of the local ruling clan. The story goes that he saw a turtle (a sign of luck and longevity) in a waterfall and decided to build a shrine here. However, the locals had worshipped a certain boulder on the mountain for a long time before that already. In any case, Matsunoo Taisha is one of the oldest shrines in Kyoto, and the Hata clan was instrumental in moving the capital to Kyoto eventually.

The two main gods enshrined at Matsunoo Taisha are O-yamagui-no-kami, the god of brewing sake and of Matsuo-san, the mountain behind the shrine; and Ichiki-shima-hime-no-mikoto, a female deity protecting travellers.

The main entrance of Matsunoo Taisha is at the large, 14m high torii at the western end of Shijo street. A smaller road leads to the main shrine, where there is another torii. From there, the path leads up some steps to the two-storey Romon gate, which is – like the one at Yasaka shrine across the city – guarded by two zuishin warrior statues to the left and right.

Passing through the gate, at first, there is a small stone bridge to cross, and a few more steps lead directly up to the dance stage. At the left of it is a large display of sake barrels. While these are common donations to shrines, Matsunoo Taisha, as home of the god of sake brewing, has received a large number of barrels originating from sake brewers from all over Japan.

Behind the dance stage lies the long haiden outer hall where people worship and behind that, the impressive honden main hall. This is the oldest building of the shrine, dating back to 1397 and is designated Important Cultural Asset. Its unusual roof – in the so-called Matsuo-zukuri style – forms porticos on the back as well as in the front of the building.

After praying at the haiden, go to the right and through the low entrance to the back of the shrine where a path leads uphill. To the right, there is the famous Kame-no-i well, where a large black turtle spews holy water. It is said, that this water will bring health and longevity to those who drink it. Even more importantly: If sake is brewed with even a small fraction of this water, it will not go bad. Therefore, many sake brewers visit the shrine regularly to get some of the water, and to pray for business success. Further up the path lies the shrine’s sacred waterfall Reiki-no-taki, which marks the spot where Hata no Imikitori allegedly watched the turtle swim all these years ago.

Nearby the Kame-no-i well lies the entrance to two of the three gardens that make up the Shofu-en garden of Matsunoo Taisha. They were designed by the late Mirei Shigemori just before his death in 1975 and are considered the best modern gardens in Japan. Each of the three parts of the garden is representative of a Japanese era, and the opposing ideas of stillness and movement, represented by large blue-green rocks and water, respectively, are the central design elements.

The first garden behind the entrance is the Kyokusui garden, with a stream of water bending seven times around heavy rocks. The stream is framed by smaller stones, giving it the appearance of a dragon, a water creature in Japanese mythology. The Kyokusui represents the gardens popular at the Heian era, the time of the foundation of Kyoto.

Beyond the Kyokusui lies the Iwakura or Joko garden, where a number of large rocks scattered on a steep slope represent the ancient times, where the gods roamed the mountain tops of Japan. The two largest rocks on top of the slope are meant to represent the main gods of the shrine. Beyond this garden, there is a path further up the mountain where the original place of worship, the iwakura stone, can be visited.

The third garden, the Horai (the entrance is next to the little restaurant outside the Romon gate), is constructed in the Kaiyu style, where a large pond shaped like a crane is the central focal point. The basic idea here is the Chinese concept of paradise, where people do not get old or die. The rocks represent islands in the sea, and the only movements are contributed by the fountain of youth in the back of the garden and the many carp in the pond.

Besides the extensive shrine gardens, which are a rare feature in Shinto shrines, Matsunoo Taisha also has two museums. The treasure hall is the main museum; it is situated between the first two gardens and shows 21 wooden statues in total. The three largest ones date back to the Heian period and are among the oldest and best preserved wood carvings of Japan. Although they are carved in the style of Buddhist statues, two of them are said to show the main Shinto deities of the shrine. These statues with their beautiful serene expressions are among Japan’s national treasures and alone justify a visit to the shrine.

The other museum lies near the entrance, on the way to the parking lot. The little Sake-no-shiryokan shows old tools that were once used to produce sake. They were donated by sake makers worshipping the god of sake brewing here.

Matsunoo Taisha lies a bit off the beaten tracks of Kyoto’s Arashiyama area, but especially during April and May, when the shrine’s 3000 yellow Kerria bushes are in bloom, it has a distinct charm that should not be missed. The shrine sells a number of unique lucky charms, for example one representing a bright yellow Kerria flower. However, for extra luck, you should try to win your omamori at the game shooting arrows at empty sake barrels.

Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen

Dainenbutsu Kyogen are short theatre performances that were originally meant to teach Buddhism to the general population of Japan. In Kyoto, there are three major such kyogen performances: Mibu Kyogen (in Mibudera Temple), Senbon Enmado Kyogen (in Injo-ji Temple) and Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen.

The latter ones, shown in spring and autumn in Arashiyama’s Seiryo-ji Temple, originate in a ceremonial event called Dainenbutsu-e that was initiated by the monk Engaku in 1279. In modern times, their history was a bit rocky: In the 1960s, these plays went through a crisis when the number of actors declined and performances had to be cancelled. In 1975, volunteers founded the Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen Hozonkai organisation to train new actors and keep the art alive through regular performances. In 1986, the Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen were designated as a Japanese Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property, and today, the performances have become an integral part of Kyoto’s cultural calendar.

The Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen are pantomimes, where a set of (male) actors dressed as certain stereotypes (like the young woman or man, the monk, the servant, etc.) breathe life into the story that is performed on a simple stage with barely any stage design and only a few necessary props. The actors – called kyogen kata – share the stage with musicians – hayashi kata – who play a special, 9-hole yokobue flute, kane bell, and small taiko drum. There are only two basic patterns of alternating the bell and drum, it is more of a rhythm than a melody, and is played throughout the performance. Also on stage is a supervisor – koken – who may help the actors with props etc.

This is necessary, because in the Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen, all actors wear full face masks in the style of Noh masks, a tradition going back to the Muromachi era (14th – 16th century). These wooden masks have only very small eye holes through which the actors can see, which makes finding small props or immediately reacting to another actor quite challenging. Thus, the actors sometimes clap their hands or stomp their feet as a sign for the others who may wait at the edge of the stage for their next action that the play has progressed to a certain point. It is possible that two unrelated scenes that are taking place at the same time but in different places, are acted out simultaneously on stage.

The Saga Dainenbutsu Kyogen has a repertoire of about 20 plays. Not all kyogen are funny, or “soft” Yawarakamon plays, about half of them are more serious or “hard” Katamon that have their origin in Noh. Up to three plays may be grouped together and performed in one afternoon, usually the focus lies on the funny Yawakaramon though.

The atmosphere around these plays – whether soft or hard – is very relaxed, it is an outdoor performance in spring or autumn, when the temperatures are pleasant. Because the plays were developed to teach laypeople about Buddhism and they work without any speech, the stories are very easy to understand and transcend time and culture. Universally funny, they are definitely worth watching!

South of the Border, West of the Sun

South of the Border, West of the Sun
Haruki Murakami

12-year-old Hajime lives in the typical middle class suburbs of a typical post-war Japanese town, in a typical family among other, typical Japanese families. However, in a world where everybody seems to have brothers and sisters, he is an only child. In elementary school, the only friend he has is Shimamoto, new in town, whose father’s job requires her family to move frequently. Soon, the two develop a special bond, based on the fact that both are only children; but despite their attachment they lose touch when Hajime’s family moves.

25 years later, Hajime is a successful businessman in Tokyo, who loves his wife and adores his two daughters. But then, on a rainy night, Shimamoto appears in his Jazz bar, strikingly beautiful, rich, and surrounded by a mysterious air. The two rekindle their friendship, almost as had there been no interruption, and finally, Shimamoto tells him “You take either all of me or nothing”, and Hajime has to choose between his soul mate and the life he got so used to.

The story follows Hajime – whose name means “beginning” – through many of the beginnings in his life, but his love for Shimamoto is ever-present. In the preface of the book, it was mentioned that Haruki Murakami owned a Jazz bar in Tokyo at some time before he became a famous writer, and I cannot help wondering how much of his own life we can read in this book.

Haruki Murakami is probably the best known contemporary Japanese author. His first novel appeared in 1979, and “Norwegian Wood”, published in 1987, lead to international recognition and fame. He has also written several non-fiction books, for example “Underground” on the Tokyo gas attacks or “What I talk about when I talk about running” about his experiences as a marathon runner.

A book about love and middle age, and the choices we need to make. Available from amazon.

Hanami 2018!

The cherries have arrived this year! All Kyoto is now full with cherry blossoms and people are all distracted and taking photos of each and every little blossom…

Of course, I have to go with the general flow as well. Yesterday, on my way home I got a takeout falafel and chai and had it down at the river. And today, I went there again for a proper hanami with two friends. Many people had the same idea, so most of the best spots for picnics were already taken. The weather was lovely, kids were playing in the river (which is particularly shallow up here) and of course, you could hear lots and lots of cameras clicking… Here are a few of my photos:

Important Cultural Property

You have no idea what I have met last Sunday… But let’s start at the beginning!

Last Sunday, I took a few hours off to take an introductory course on Noh in a very small Noh theater. Noh (or Nohgaku) is traditional Japanese theater with a history of some 600 years, and I have seen one play before. This time, however, there was an in-depth explanation of some aspects of Noh, given by three actors of both the Kanze and the Kongo theater – both major traditional Noh schools.

The course came in three parts: In the first, we got a brief historical overview, then talked about chants (Utai), masks (Omote), and movements (Kata). Two people could even try putting on one of the masks, which must have been very exciting for them. Anyway, in the second part, the movements were explored further, and the audience learnt a very short chant to which the actor then performed the moves on stage. Even though I can’t sing, this was the most fun part of them all.

In the third part, we saw a short excerpt of the Noh play “Atsumori“. But first, the most senior actor played that part with all its movements and chanted in English what was happening. Noh movements are very complex and refined, without knowing what is going on it is pretty much impossible to discern it just from watching the play. So, this part was very useful, since we could compare the English version to the stylised real version we could watch just a few moments later. I liked this part a lot, and it gave me more incentive to go back and see more Noh plays. Yes, for some odd reason, I do like Noh, even though most of it is practically incomprehensible to the outsider.

Anyway, after the course, there was first a question and answer session, and afterwards, a few people – me included – went to have dinner in a nearby Japanese restaurant. There, the instructors of the course, the staff of the theater, and 12 people from the audience could sit together and eat, drink, and talk to the Noh actors. It turned out that the oldest one – who spoke English almost flawlessly – was the representative of a very small local Noh theatre. He was very knowledgeable, and talking to him gave me lots of things to think about.

Towards the end of the dinner, people exchanged business cards, and, you won’t believe it: That old sensei was a “Designated National Human Important Cultural Property” of Japan. These people are usually extremely knowledgeable in a traditional art of craft, and they are officially charged to maintain the art on the highest possible level and transmit their knowledge to future generations. Obviously, there are not many of them, and I am so thrilled that I could actually meet one of them – and even more: That he could speak English so well and that I was allowed to ask all sorts of questions.

Yes, I do indeed like Noh. I will be back for more!

Higashiyama Hanatouro

Every year in early spring, just before the cherry blossom season starts, there is the Kyoto Higashiyama Hanatouro. Between Shoren-in and Kiyomizudera temples, thousands of lanterns light the back streets of the Higashiyama mountains. Many of the temples en route hold special light-up events as well, and also, there are displays of large Ikebana works, most of them in Maruyama park.

This year was the first Hanatouro I visited, and it was lovely! The evening last Friday was cool, but not too cold, and as it was not raining, the atmosphere was very pleasant. There were other events and exhibitions on the way as well: You could write your wish to the world on a cherry blossom shaped sticker and put it on a lantern. There was a “fox wedding”, where a bride with a fox mask was drawn through the streets on a rikisha. There was an exhibition of designs for lanterns (and some of them were used on the streets). There was a stamp rally where you could win prizes. And there were many Ikebana displays, from the sombre and serious ones to the modern versions, one of which you can see below (it looked like the model of an atom, as my friend observed).

So, today just a few pictures of this year’s Higashiyama Hanatouro – enjoy!

Heian Jingu

Heian Jingu is among the newest shrines of Japan. It was built in 1895 as part of the Industrial Exhibition Fair, to commemorate the 1100 year anniversary of the establishment of Kyoto, then known as Heian-kyo. In the beginning, Heian Jingu only enshrined emperor Kanmu, the founder of Kyoto. However, in 1940, emperor Komei was deified and, as the last emperor to reside in Kyoto, was also enshrined here. The shrine is popular with the locals because it was an attempt to halt Kyoto’s decline after the capital had moved to Tokyo – and it did work! So, when it burnt down completely due to arson in 1976, it only took three years to rebuild it. Today, Heian Jingu is considered an Important Cultural Property.

Heian Jingu as a whole is a replica of the ancient imperial palace Daidairi, built at the founding of Kyoto, and destroyed in 1227. The shrine is built in the official compound structure style Chodo-in, on a 5/8-scale of the original. The final designs were made by architectural historian Ito Chuta, and the colorful buildings and vast spaces between them have a distinct Chinese charm, that was very popular during the Heian period. It also gives the shrine a grand and stately atmosphere.

The first building to greet visitors in the impressive, two-storey Otenmon gate in vermillion, green, and white, once the main gate of the old Heian palace. However, the official entrance to the shrine is 500 m further to the south, at the huge torii, one of Kyoto’s landmarks. Interestingly, the torii was erected only in 1929, when, with a hight of 24,4 m and legs that boast a diameter of 3,6 m, it was the largest torii in Japan.

Passing through the Otenmon gate, the shrine opens up into a large courtyard, at the north of which lies the Daigokuden, the Great Hall of State, where once the emperor conducted the state affairs. The Daigokuden is divided into three parts: In the Gaihaiden front shrine, people come to worship and buy good luck charms. Behind it lies the inner sanctuary, which was once used only for imperial ceremonies, but today, shinto ceremonies like weddings or the popular shichi-go-sai shrine visits for kids take place here. At the very back lies the main sanctuary, where the kami are enshrined and only the priests have access.

At the eastern and western end of the courtyard lie two towers called Soyru-ro (blue dragon tower) and Byakko-ro (white tiger tower), respectively. Those two animals are guardians of the east and west, and they also adorn two fountains nearby the entrance. Of course, there are also guardians of the north (Genbu, a black snake-turtle) and south (Suzaku, a vermillion bird). Images of the four animals can also be found on the iron lanterns present throughout the shrine.

A very interesting feature of Heian Jingu is its large public garden, 33.000 square metres hidden behind the buildings. Construction on the Shinen Garden, which is divided into four parts, started in 1895, but it took 20 years to complete. Today, the entrance is at a gate at the western end of the courtyard, and directly behind it lies the South or Heian Garden, with some 200 species of plants that are mentioned in Heian era literature. It is also the resting place of Japan’s oldest street car that once ran through Kyoto.

Further along the path lie the West, Middle, and Eastern Gardens. They were designed by famous Kyoto gardener Ueji VII (aka Jihei Ogawa), whose style is readily recognized. Unusual for a Shinto garden, Shinen is centered around large ponds that draw water from the Lake Biwa Canal, and are home to rare turtles and fish.

In the West Garden, Byakko-Ike pond shows about 2000 Irises, representing the 200 species that grow in Japan. The Middle Garden follows with Soryu-ike pond that is crossed by stepping-stones called Garyuko. They were once part of old Sanjo and Gojo bridges built in the 16th century. However, the East Garden is the largest one, with Seiho-ike pond at its center, and many weeping cherries all over. The big attraction here is the covered bridge Taiheikaku, a gift from the imperial palace in the 1970s. The ceremonial hall Shobikan, that is reached after crossing the bridge, was also an imperial gift, today it is used for the weddings that take place at the shrine.

Heian Jingu is popular among tourists and locals alike. The gardens are a must-see in every season (although most famed during cherry blossoms) and the shrine itself is a popular destination for locals for their hatsumode visit or the Adult Day celebrations.

No One’s Perfect

No One’s Perfect
Hirotada Ototake

In Japan, everything has to be just perfect, so there are rules for everything: How deep to bow, how to answer the phone, how to dress, in short, how to live. Everything has to be just so, and not any other way, and if you dare to be different, you practically make yourself an outcast.

Hiro is most certainly not perfect. He was born with tetra-amelia syndrome, a gene-defect that left him without arms and legs. But he is no outcast. The first thing his mother says to him when she first sees him – three weeks after his birth and hitherto unaware of his condition – is “He’s adorable”, and Hiro takes it from there.

He visits normal schools and tries to do what other kids do, and his favourite subject is PE, where he signs up for basket ball, runs laps, and takes part in the sport meetings like all the other kids. He is always outspoken about what he wants and often ends up as the leader of various groups. Only when at university, he decides to do what no one else can do: campaign for a barrier-free world. And this is what he is still doing today.

Hirotada Ototake was born in 1976 in Japan, only one of seven people worldwide with tetra-amelia syndrome. Throughout his life he insisted on leading a normal life as much as possible despite his handicap. He worked as a schoolteacher, TV presenter, speaker, writer, and presently lives in Tokyo.

This book is a fascinating read, because Hiro focuses on what he can do instead of what he cannot do. It is very uplifting to see him so determined, so positive throughout his life. Only a single chapter of the book deals with the difficulties he must be facing every single day, like not having wheelchair access, or not being able to buy a coffee from a vending machine. But he seems to take all this in his stride, and when you read the book you have the impression he lives a life as perfect as can be…

A very inspiring and uplifting book, available on Amazon.

Faux Pas

Japan has given the world the automated bidet toilet where people can wash their nether regions after use with the push of a button. Today, more than 80% of the Japanese households have these kinds of toilets, and they are becoming more and more popular in the West as well.

Toilet slippers in Japan — photo by Crispin Semmens, wikimedia commons.

However, one thing that is unlikely to spread to the western world is the use of toilet slippers. Those are usually very cheap, easy to clean slippers, that are used in the toilet – and only in the toilet! They are provided mostly in restaurants where you have to take off your shoes, but also some private homes are using them. You are supposed to remove your usual slippers in front of the toilet, use the toilet slippers while inside doing your business, and then switch slippers again when returning to the main part of the house.

The idea behind toilet slippers is, that there are “clean” and “unclean” parts to a house. The outside is generally seen as “unclean”, that’s why you are asked to remove your shoes when entering a Japanese home. Traditionally, the toilet was outside of the house, and people would have to literally step out of the house and put on their shoes to go there. Even in modern homes, the toilet is often located nearby the entrance or as far away as possible from the main living area. Many houses have the bathroom and toilet (two rooms, actually) on the first floor, and the bedrooms on the third floor, which I find rather inconvenient – what if you’re sick?

Anyway, one of the bigger faux pas that a foreigner can commit is to use the toilet slippers – and then forget to change to the normal ones again, and going back to the livingroom wearing the ones designated for the toilet. It happened to me twice already… In my defense: it was winter both times, and those were very nice, fluffy and warm toilet slippers. I was with friends in both cases, and their reaction surprised me: They were laughing their heads off at the silly foreigner! I was very surprised at this reaction, I thought people would be offended by me making their home dirty. But they just found it extremely funny. Oh yes, the Japanese: you never know what you can expect…