Wealth

It is universally known that rice is very important in Japan and all over Asia, and 87% of the world’s total rice production is harvested in Asia.  Rice was first domesticated in China around 10.000 years ago but has since become the staple food for millions of people.

In old Japan, farmers were considered so important that in the hierarchical feudal class system of the Edo period, peasants held the second rank – right below the samurai, but above the third rank artisans and the merchants, who made up the fourth and lowest rank. And during that time, rice was used as a measure of somebody’s wealth.

A bowl of white riceFor example, the income of the daimyo – feudal lords – and samurai was counted in koku – bales of rice. Originally, one koku was about 150 kg, and the idea behind it is that one bowl of rice holds 150 grams of rice, and that 1 koku – which would be 1000 bowls of rice – would be needed to feed a single person for one whole year.

If you do the math, this makes about 2.7 bowls of rice that a person could eat per day, which is only okay if you are on a severe diet; but of course, rice was not the only thing people were eating. In fact, there is a story that Ieyasu – the first Shogun of the Edo period – preferred to eat other grains because they were cheaper…

Back to wealth: In the Edo period, each feudal domain was assessed by their potential rice income, called kokudaka. This was done by bestowing fiefs that had been won in the war on allies or loyal retainers. Later, the kokudaka also determined the order of precedence at the court of the Shogun.

Only if a fief had an income of at least 10.000 koku, its fief-holder could be called a daimyo. The largest income of any daimyo was the Kaga or Kanazawa domain in Honshu, with 1.025.000 koku per year. This was the only fief with more than one million koku, and to this day, there is a million-koku festival in Kanazawa town to celebrate the return of their lord as a millionaire. Only 20 daimyo had a kokudaka of more than 200.000 koku, including the Shogun, whose income was some 4 million koku per year. To put this in perspective: altogether, Japan produced some 30 million koku annually.

After the Meiji restoration, in 1891, the koku was redefined to be 180 litres of rice, but soon enough, income was measured in money rather than in rice. Today, koku are still in use in the lumber industry as a cubic measure, but beyond that, they have been relegated to old stories and museums.

The Waiting Years

The Waiting Years
Fumiko Enchi

Cover of The Waiting YearsTomo is the wife of Yukitomo Shirakawa, a public servant in Fukushima, who is rapidly climbing the political ladder. Their two children do not keep Yukitomo from being a womanizer, and at some point he even orders his wife to find him a suitable mistress. Unwilling, but unable to stand her ground against her despotic husband, Tomo goes to Tokyo and after painful deliberations decides on Suga.
With the young girl’s arrival Yukitomo adds a new luxurious wing to the house and Tomo more and more finds herself in the role of household accountant. Both women soon arrange themselves with the new conditions forced upon them, but they change again when Yumi takes up service in their house and Yukitomo cannot keep his hands off her.

This is a very quiet novel, focusing on the women of the household. Though there are no open power struggles between them, and Tomo retains her elevated status of “wife” at all times, the common suffering of the women under Yukitomo’s reign is ever present. I enjoyed reading it, as it gives an almost psychological diagnosis of all persons involved, but if you are looking for action, this novel is not for you.

Fumiko Enchi (1905 – 1986) was born in Tokyo. Since she was a sickly child, she was home-schooled and was taught English, French, and Chinese literature; through her grandmother she got to know the classics of Japanese literature. With 21, her first play was published, and from 1930, she began to write fiction, to not much acclaim. After a hiatus in and after WWII, she started to write again in the early 1950s, and finally received recognition as one of the most prominent Japanese writers of the Showa period.

The book is available on amazon – enjoy!

Handling

I recently bought another futon in a shop nearby. Futons are not really heavy, but quite bulky, even though they are usually transported folded into thirds. For some reason, the package did not have a handle, which makes carrying a futon, even over a short distance, a bit cumbersome.

plastic handlesHowever, the Japanese have a solution for this: plastic strap-on handles (for want of a better word). Essentially you wrap some string around your package and then hook in the handles. It’s harder to describe than it actually is, just have a look at the picture.

This makes carrying a large bundle like my futon comparatively easy. I have also seen those handles used with normal cartons, as long as they are not too heavy. Isn’t this a very neat, simple and practical solution – quite Japanese in fact!

Tansu

Traditionally, Japanese interior uses very little furniture. On bare tatami floors, low tables and cushions are placed during the day which are replaced in the evening by futons. Most possessions are stored away behind fusuma sliding doors in large oshi-ire wall closets, or in special fireproof storage buildings called kura.

Of the few pieces of specialised storage furniture that Japanese people possessed, Tansu are probably the most beautiful ones: Large dressers made of various kinds of wood with different lacquer finish and decorated metalwork at the locks and handles of the drawers. Some old style Tansu have handles on their sides as well, so they can be easily transported by two people – either by carrying it in the usual fashion or by putting a wooden bar through the top handles which can be flipped upwards.

Several different TansuTansu first came up in the 17th century as a means to store kimono. Until then, Japanese people had stored their clothing in baskets or wheeled trunks, if they were able to buy more than one kimono at all. Around that time however, for several reasons, general wealth increased and when people could afford to buy more clothing, baskets and trunks became too cumbersome to use. Osaka clothes merchants first started to use Tansu in their shops since they made retrieving their goods much more easy. And when – after a devastating fire in Edo (now Tokyo) – wheeled trunks were outlawed, Tansu quickly filled the void.

The first centre of Tansu production was Osaka, and the finished furniture was transported by ship mainly to Edo and Kyoto. By the beginning of the 18th century, demand in Edo had risen drastically, and Tansu were being manufactured there as well as in other larger cities like Kyoto or Nagoya for example. By the mid 19th century, Tansu were produced in many of the smaller castle towns to be sold locally, which eventually gave rise to many local styles and specialised types of Tansu.

Portable Kakesuzuri TansuLike so many other Japanese arts and crafts, Tansu arrived from China. At first, they were just small boxes used for tea ceremony, the original Kanji meaning “something that is carried”. So-called funa dansu used by sailors as well as kakesuzuri for the use of merchants with space for writing implements, soroban and sometimes even a lamp, were still relatively small and could be carried easily.

Funa Dansu used by sailorsOf significantly larger size are isho dansu with several drawers to hold clothing, and they quickly became a standard part of a woman’s dowry. It was usual for a woman to bring two isho-dansu to her husband’s home; if she had more, it meant that she owned more kimono – a sign of wealth. Heya dansu were 180 cm wide and thus filled the entire space between two pillars of a Japanese room. They were as high as the sliding doors and thus covered a whole wall of a room. Other special types of Tansu are kusuri dansu, medicine chests with lots of tiny little drawers for different herbs, and kaidan dansu, which were used as staircases, always carefully hidden behind fusuma doors.

Kaidan Dansu as staircase. Note the fusuma on the leftTansu could be very elaborately made, depending on the intended owner. From the relatively simple drawer type of the middle class samurai, where the wood was polished and covered with clear lacquer, to the elaborately black lacquered double-door type showing golden crests which were used for important government documents, Tansu became a status symbol in the larger cities.

A distinctive feature of Tansu are the metal fittings on the locks and at the handles. They could be simply an indicator of the manufacturing site or individually designed for the customer with flowers, animals, or even family crests. The wood used was mostly Zelkova or Paulownia, and Tansu were made in a special way without nails that allowed the wood to expand and shrink according to the humidity of the summer or the dryness of the Japanese winter, something Western furniture is less able to do.

Sendai Tansu for Middle Class SamuraiAs mentioned above, Tansu development reached its peak in the Meiji era when regional characteristics appeared around 1880 and lasted for some 40 years. Interestingly, the death-blow of the Tansu was the increased demand from Tokyo after the devastating 1923 Kanto earthquake. By this time, there was a distinct Tokyo Tansu, and since the city’s factories were destroyed, smaller ones from all over Japan stepped in to fill the gap – and discarded their local style for the more sombre, Western-influenced style of Tokyo. In fact, if you are buying a modern Tansu today, this style – with unlacquered, almost white wood and small black metal fittings – remains the prevalent one.

Tokyo style TansuEven though Western wardrobes and dressers have all but replaced the traditional Tansu, there are some producers who still make them according to the old methods. They are absolutely stunning – and very expensive! It remains to be seen whether a revival is indeed taking place, or whether Tansu stay something for the connoisseur…

Avocado Donburi

It is slowly getting warmer here, and although the weather is still very pleasant, it will not take long until the humidity increases to the summer level of “hardly bearable”. At this time, the less you do to provoke your body to sweat, the better. And the less time you spend in the hot kitchen, the better.

On these days, if I choose to eat anything solid at all, I like to keep my cooking short and sweet. I love avocados, and most of the time I simply spoon them out of their peel and eat them with soy sauce. However, sometimes I want to indulge a bit more, and then I make avocado donburi, which is essentially avocado on top of a bowl of rice with a bit of seasoning. Once the rice is cooked, it is very quick lunch or dinner (or, with half an avocado, a starter), which makes it perfect for this time of the year.

Recipe for Avocado Donburi à la Junko san
(for 2 people)

– 2 bowls of boiled rice, preferrably white

– 2 teaspoons of chirimen sanshou (tiny broiled sardines mixed with Japanese pepper)
– 3 Perilla leaves, cut into thin stripes
Distribute evenly over the two bowls.

– 1 ripe avocado
Cut into 1.5 cm cubes and put 1/2 of the cubes into each rice bowl.

– 6 surimi sticks
Gently tear them apart with your fingers and add on top of the avocado cubes.

Mix some soy sauce with wasabi, and pour it over the avocado just before eating.

Kyoto State Guest House

Entertaining guests – especially if one is determined to do it well – is not an easy thing to do. Raise it to the level of state guests, and walking the delicate line between entertainment and representation almost becomes an art. Heads of state and other dignitaries are treated to intimate views of national landmarks, personal meetings with local celebrities, and a walk past a military guard; all of these usually accompanied by numerous cameras. But once they are turned off, the guests are briskly whisked away – but where to?

In Japan, one of the places such illustrious guests are taken to is the Kyoto State Guest House. Situated in the park of the Imperial palace, the house – or rather, the complex consisting of several buildings on two floors – consists of some 8.000 square metres of floor space on each level, located in a separate, walled-in park of more than 20.000 square metres. Usually, the guest house is off-limits to the public, but a few times a year, special openings are held where the official part of the building can be admired.

Kyoto State Guest House gardenHaving passed through the main entrance and the Juraku-no-ma lobby, one enters the conference room called Yubae-no-ma. The room itself is in a rather sober Western style, but each of its short sides is decorated with a tapestry 2.3 x 8.6 metres high, depicting the moon over Mount Hiei on the east wall, and the sunset behind Mount Atago on the west wall, mirroring Kyoto’s true layout.

State dinner set for 1 personBeyond this is the Fuji-no-ma Banquet Hall, the largest room in the guest house, which can seat up to 120 guests. Again, a huge tapestry of 3.1 x 16.6 metres adorns the main wall and behind a number of sliding doors hides a stage, where music or dances are performed as dinner entertainment. A table setting like the one above is used at such dinners, coordinated to the latest detail. The embroidery on the napkin shows the Japanese state seal by the way, a stylised image of a Paulownia, going back to at least the 17th century.

hallwayFrom here a dark and comparatively narrow hallway reminiscent of old Gion leads to the Kiri-no-ma, a small, almost intimate Banquet room in Japanese style. This room with its tatami and low chairs seats only 24 people, but it does so extremely stylishly on a 12 metre long, black-lacquered table made from a single piece of wood. The low chairs again bear the Paulownia seal on their backs.

Kyoto State Guest House small banquet roomThe rooms beyond that – in particular the private guest rooms – remain closed, so from this final room that is open to the public, visitors are led back to the entrance. On this last path one has the opportunity to admire the large garden with the obligatory pond that lies at the centre of the whole complex. The design concept behind it is complete harmonisation of the garden and house, and it has been accomplished very well indeed.

detail of sliding doorInterestingly, the house, built only in 2005, is made of reinforced concrete, but the traditional Japanese interior design with its paper sliding doors, wood panels and floor lamps easily conceals this. Still, when you think of it, this is nothing more than a hotel, so the feeling conveyed is cool understatement, and the furniture and other decor are functional and sparse. At the same time, the devil expecting to impress hides in the details, only for the initiated to find and appreciate: The furniture is handmade using traditional craftsmanship, the decorations on sliding doors and furniture are pure gold, the strategically placed artwork only comes from the most renowned Japanese artists, and the lacquered table you see in the picture above must have taken years to make and is doubtlessly worth a fortune.

I have only posted very few pictures of my own this time, but in fact, you can take a video tour of Kyoto State Guest House yourself; it even includes one additional room we were not allowed in. Have a look here – enjoy!

Sugar

Most people who get to know me find out pretty quickly that I am very fond of sweets. (And many people who don’t know me deduce that from my weight…) And I find it an extremely nice move when people give me sweets as presents, first because I like to try out new ones, and second because they won’t clutter up my home (for long).

sugar lumps with sugar flowes on topToday I received this little gift from one of my English students. These are nothing but normal lumps of sugar, with a little handmade sugar flower on top. All the flowers are different, and the really cute thing about them is that when you put them into your tea, the sugar cube dissolves more quickly than the flower, which will then rise to the surface and swim on the tea for a while. It almost gives the impression of a lonely lotus on a lake…

I have seen this type of food art before but only as something to be done for tea ceremonies. In general, the Japanese are quite obsessed with food and will often go through great lengths to prepare it; sometimes so much so that you’d really rather not eat the final result. This must be the reason why so many Japanese first take a snapshot of their food before delving into it.

The Woodsman and the Rain

poster woodsman and the rainKishi Katsuhiko is a 60 year old woodcutter in a quiet rural village. One day his work is interrupted by a member of a filmcrew, asking him to be quiet while they are shooting. Some days later they meet again, and Kishi helps them find a suitable location for the next scene, in which he ends up playing a minor role. Koichi Tanabe, the insecure young man Kishi finds so annoying at first, turns out to be the director, and slowly a friendship between the two starts, beneficial for the both of them – and the movie. With Kishi’s knowledge of the best places for shooting and his connections to the other villagers, Koichi’s first movie becomes successful beyond his wildest dreams. In the end, Koichi has become more secure in his demands as a director, and Kishi has more respect for the plights of his own son.

The Woodsman and the Rain (Kitsutsuki to Ame), 2011, 129 minutes
Director: Shuichi Okita
Cast: Koji Yakusho (Kishi Katsuhiko), Shun Ogura (Koichi Tanabe)
Winner of the 2011 Tokyo International Film Festival’s Special Jury Prize

I went to see the film with very little expectations, but I ended up greatly enjoying it. I think it depicts the dynamics of a friendship between old and young quite well, and how important outside input can be when it comes to our own family relationships. But this is not a big drama – some of the scenes are outright funny, and the awkward and shy Koichi and the down to earth Katsuhiko who acts like a supportive father figure make a good team. It’s not high art – especially given that the movie in the movie is about zombies – but nevertheless time pleasantly spent.

There is an English version of this film available at amazon.

Ichigo Daifuku

I love sweets. However, my idea of sweets is synonymous with “chocolate”, and this is not optimal in Japan, especially in summer when it melts faster than you can eat it. And traditional Japanese sweets and desserts are… well, let’s say many of them are an acquired taste. Somewhere on a level with licorice…

But there is one type of Japanese sweets I absolutely love: Ichigo Daifuku. It’s nothing but a soft mochi rice cake filled with very smooth and heavily sugared anko red bean paste. This mochi is then cut open, and a fresh strawberry is put on top. This is one in all its finger food glory:ichigo daifukuEven though I don’t like anko at all, there is something about those ichigo daifuku that makes them incredibly delicious; the taste of the mochi, the strawberry, and the anko blends together perfectly – probably because of all the sugar. They are often sold at matsuri food stalls during spring when the strawberries are in season. If you come across them anywhere – do give them a try!

Hideyoshi’s Hanami

It is cherry blossom season – hanami – and there are plenty of occasions to go out and watch Japanese look at the Japanese sakura cherry trees, most likely through a camera lens.

One of the oldest versions of hanami is recreated each year at Daigo-ji temple. In 1598, the de-facto-ruler of Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, had 700 sakura trees planted all over the temple precincts, and then hosted a party underneath the trees with more than 1300 invited guests. The procession starts out from Sanbo-in, an exquisite garden also designed by Hideyoshi. The gate already is interesting: The chrysanthemums on the outside represent the Imperial house, while the Paulownia in the centre are the family crest of the Toyotomi.

main gate of sanbo-in gardenFirst in line are samurai with a fierce look on their faces, and they are followed by court musicians, other nobles, and priests of the temple.

first in line: samuraiOnly then comes Hideyoshi, the only one not on foot, and he graciously waves to his subjects. At the time of the famous hanami, Hideyoshi was 62 years old, so the age and the appearance of the man on the dais is accurate.

Hideyoshi ToyotomiBehind him, at the end of the procession, follow Hideyoshi’s wife and his consorts. This was quite normal at the time, especially since marriages were more of a political than a love affair. He is said to have been extremely fond of his consort Yodo, the mother of his heir Hideyori, who was five years old at the time of the hanami. He did not follow the modern procession though.

Hideyoshi's womenThe procession took the short path of the lower part of Daigo-ji, and then entered the middle part of the temple through the  niomon gate.

entering through the niomon gateBeyond this, there are a number of temple buildings and a beautiful pagoda; but for the hanami, an extra stage is built for music and dance performances. Unfortunately, I did not see them because you need an extra ticket, but the music could be heard throughout the temple complex, so I think there was quite some party going on… court musicians in the procession