All Things Japanese – Page 41

Noh

As promised last Wednesday, I went to a Noh performance yesterday. It was a special performance by students of the International Noh Institute in Kyoto, and there were many international performers (including women) which makes this a special event indeed, as most Noh actors you see here are Japanese. This has to do with the fact that Noh schools (like many other traditional arts) have been run by the same family for centuries and the children are groomed from a very young age to take over the school.

a traditional noh stage — traditional Noh stage

Anyway, there were a large number of different plays, three full Noh plays, and several smaller excerpts, scheduled from 11 – 17 o’clock. I already knew there was no way I could stay even remotely focused for all of six hours, so I decided beforehand to only go to the first two, the first one with a variety of dances and songs from different plays, the second one the full play Kiyotsune.

Of course, before going I did some research and read about Noh. I know now that the art originated in the 14th century, and that it remains essentially unchanged until today. I found out that any professional actor starts training as a child and must know all the parts – from chorus to lead actor – and must be able to sing them. And that the ensemble for a particular play will only rehearse together a single time before the performance. So, I went there with certain expectations. Not that I could tell you exactly what they were of course, but I certainly did not expect what I got to see. Okay, where do I start?

There were several groups of people on stage: the musicians (up to three different drums and a flute), the singers of the chorus and the actors. The musicians play the music, but not all the time, and sometimes during playing they shout as well, which I found distracting, because the were even louder than the actors at times. The chorus more or less explains the background and tells the story itself, and its members probably have the largest part to memorize. Both groups are dressed in standard, dark Japanese attire.

The actors themselves – most elaborately dressed with bright costumes and, in case of the main actors, wearing masks and wigs – engage in dialogue with each other and dance as required. They may also act out certain parts of the story, fighting for example. And this acting struck me as most peculiar. I expected it to be very formalised and stylised to begin with, but in fact, over long stretches of the play there was hardly any movement. Restrained would be a good word here, even sparse. For example, the wife of the dead warrior was supposed to cry over the death message; this was only indicated by her raising her hand towards her masked face.

It was interesting that actors who did not appear in a certain scene did not leave the stage. Instead, they took a sitting position somewhere (doubtlessly precisely indicated by tradition) and faded into the background, motionless. Otherwise, props that were not needed anymore were immediately removed by a stagehand and put outside. This means that in the end, when everybody has left, the stage is completely clear again. Also, the musicians and the chorus barely moved, except for the taking up and putting down of their instruments and fans, respectively. And all through the performance, the chorus had to kneel on the hard wooden floor – quite a feat in itself, I know how much that can hurt!

Altogether I found it a very interesting experience. I was glad for the summary of scenes and explanations I picked up before the play, as there is no way of understanding it – old Japanese, remember – and the tiny clues indicating feelings or movements otherwise. For the next time I’ll have to do even more research. I don’t think this is an experience I need to repeat anytime soon, but the next time somebody suggests going, I’ll surely say yes!

Finally, to give you an idea of what I’ve been talking about, here is a very brief summary of the play Kiyotsune together with some pictures:

Taira no Kiyotsune is dead. He drowned himself at the imminent destruction of his clan. His retainer, Awazu no Saburo, travels to the capital to inform Kiyotsune’s wife of his death

He hands her a keepsake of her late husband, a lock of his hair.

After he has done so, Kiyotsune’s ghost appears.

His wife is happy to see him, but soon laments his death, and the fact that she is now left alone. They begin to argue.

Kiyotsune recalls the last days of his life and explains why he had to kill himself. Kiyotsune battles again in the afterlife before he can finally enter paradise.

Devotion of Suspect X

The Devotion of Suspect X
Keigo Higashino

Ishigami lives next door of Yasuko, with whom he is secretly in love – not that she will ever find that out, of course. However, when Yasuko’s abusive ex-husband Togashi shows up at her apartment and in an unexpected outburst of violence is killed by her, Ishigami senses his chance and offers his help.

A body found at the old Edogawa river is quickly identified as Shinji Togashi. Naturally, his ex-wife is questioned, but her alibi is sound. Somehow, detective Kusanagi of Tokyo Police is not satisfied, however, and he turns – yet again – to his friend Prof. Yukawa for assistance.

In a strange coincidence, it turns out that Yukawa and Ishigami were classmates at University; the former a gifted experimental physicist, the latter a genius mathematician. Soon, solving the murder case changes into a battle of minds and wits, and there can only be one to answer the question: “Which is harder: devising an unsolvable problem, or solving that problem?”

This is perfect light reading for summer time. While Yasuko has commited murder, it was done in self defence, and one cannot help pitying her throughout, especially when Ishigami starts weaving his web. Ishigami, the shrewd teacher of mathematics, is in fact the main and most interesting character, who devises a cunning plan to help Yasuko and from then on pulls the strings from the back. I could not even guess at the solution of the mystery, and when it comes on the last few pages it arrives as a shocking surprise.

Check the book out on amazon – have fun!

Drinking

Alcohol is a very important ingredient of Japanese society. Not only does it provide the glue that holds groups of employees together in a tight embrace after working hours, its overuse is also a welcome excuse to loosen the shackles of propriety towards your superiors and society rules in general. you are expected to be part of the group and drink together, but whatever misdemeanour happens once you’ve had enough will stay inside the group and is never mentioned the next morning. Drinking is socially accepted, even expected, and “nomi-hodai” – all you can drink – is often used as incentive to lure customers. (Note here that usually a visit to a bar or even restaurant is time bombed; you are expected to leaver say, 2 hours after you entered the establishment.)

Anyway, obviously I have limited experience with such matters – not because I’m a teetotaller, but because I have never worked in Japan and experienced enough of such events t form my own expertise. However, since coming here last month I have done some research of my own regarding alcoholic drinks and I have come across something that is called “Horoyoi Chu-Hi”, probably meaning something like “Tipsy Juice”. Essentially it is sweet lemonade with alcohol, only a tiny bit really, often at most 5 % vol. I have seen some with 8 % vol., but they are already called “strong”. It is very sweet, comes in gaudy tastes and colors and can be found right next to the beer cans in the fridge of every supermarket or convenience store. Those drinks are a relatively recent invention, apparently geared towards women who neither drink beer or sake and are generally believed to prefer sweet drinks.

I have tried quite a variety so far, and I have to say: I like it! The picture shows a few different tastes (top to bottom: lychee and grape, lemon ice-tea, pineapple, apple, peach, and lime), and the one in poison-red is sour grapes. This is the perfect stuff to drink after a long sweaty day running through temples and shrines, and even though the alcohol content is minimal and can hardly be tasted, there are non-alcoholic versions as well. No matter whether with or without, as long as you don’t forget the ice both types are seriously oishii (tasty)!

Japanese Era

After writing the post about my troubles with the expiration dates, I realized that it could be even worse: They could write “25” instead of “13“.

Japan is a monarchy, and every emperor has his own era name. The reigning emperor ascended the throne in 1989, which marked the beginning of a new Japanese era. Currently, we live in Heisei 25, and while Japan is mostly using the standard Gregorian calender, the era years, called nengo, are still used – for government documents, CV’s, or on railway tickets, for example.

The era name is used as posthumous name for the emperor reigning through it, so the reigning emperor Akihito will be referred to as emperor Heisei after his death; and he was born in the year Showa 7, the era (and now the name) of his father. This is actually in line with Buddhist customs, where the deceased acquire a new name under which they are worshipped on the family altar. Note that a new era can start at any time during a year, so for example 1989 is known both as Showa 73 and Heisei 1. After that, the era years start on January 1st as usual.

To avoid confusion in Western writing, era years can be distinguished by using their first letter as abbreviation before the number, so it would be appropriate to write H25 for the current year. It is good that the last four eras – reaching back to the mid 19th century – all start with a different letter: Going back in time, we have Heisei (peace everywhere, since 1989), Showa (abundant benevolence, since 1926), Taisho (great righteousness, since 1912) and Meiji (enlightened rule, since 1868). The Meiji emperor was also the one to decree the rule of “one emperor – one era”, as before that, era names changed much more frequently – during his father’s reign of 21 years, there were seven different eras. Then the names were changed almost at a whim – both in case of disasters or lucky events, a new name was chosen to bring more luck to the country. Automatic name changes took place in certain fixed years of a regency, and at some point in history, it was common for the emperor to abdicate after a rather short reign, yet increasing the number of eras even further.

The tradition of era names is modeled after that of the Chinese court, and it was officially and finally adopted in 701 by emperor Mommu, after two attempts of doing so before were short lived. As the Japanese don’t seem to abandon their traditions lightly, I guess their eras will be around for as long as there is an emperor – and I don’t see that changing any time soon either.

Avocado

I love Japanese food. Ever since I came here I have indulged in a variety of take-home bento menues. Of course, I can’t cook any of that myself, there are much better chefs out there than me. My tandem partner Tomoko has told me that traditionally, Japanese people should eat 30 different foods every day – and once you see how many ingredients and preparation steps even the most basic Japanese dishes require, you’ll certainly believe that.

Anyway, one of the few things I can cook myself – mainly because it does not require any cooking 😉 – is this basic starter, which I first had when I stayed with a friend’s family in Nagoya two years ago.

Avocado with soy sauce
All you need is a ripe avocado (meaning the peel must be black or brown already) and some soy sauce of the type that is usually served with sushi. Cut the avocado in half, remove the pit, fill the soy sauce in the holes. Optionally you can add some wasabi here for that extra spicy touch. Use a spoon to eat the avocado right out of the peel.

As I said, usually half an avocado prepared like this is considered a starter and the main dish with rice and fish is to follow. However, I often eat a whole avocado together with some very dark rye bread and make it a full dinner this way. It’s done in less than five minutes (certainly a plus after a long day in the office) and I like it very much. The only important thing is to make sure that the avocado is really ripe. Otherwise just spooning it out of the peel is not possible (and will result in many hard to clean soy-sauce stains) and cutting it into pieces and eating it with the soy sauce poured over it is not quite the same thing – believe me, I have tried…

Daruma doll

As several of my friends asked about the picture adorning the “About Me” page, I thought a short explanation is in order.

This is a daruma doll. It is used by the Japanese as a talisman for good luck and it is also seen as a symbol of perseverance. The idea behind this is the following: Daruma dolls are purchased without eyes. You make a wish – or set a goal – and while doing so you paint in one eye of the doll. When your wish is fulfilled – or your goal reached – you reward the daruma by painting in the second eye.

Daruma dolls are made out of paper mache or some similar light material, but with a very heavy base, which makes them impossible to topple over – hence the symbol of perseverance, an endless falling and getting up again. They are modeled after Bodhidharma, the founder of Zen Buddhism who lived in the 6th century. The story goes that he meditated for nine years without moving, so his legs atrophied – hence the round shape of the dolls. They come in many colors and sizes, but most of them are red – the color of a head priest’s robe – and fit comfortably in two hands. The eyebrows and the beard are modeled after animals that symbolise longevity – the eyebrows have the shape of a crane, and the beard on the cheeks the shape of a tortoise. However, the design here may vary according to where they have been made.

Nowadays, daruma are widely sold in souvenir shops, but traditionally they could be bought only at Buddhist temples. The idea was that a doll was “valid” for one year only, and at the end of the year you would return it back to the temple where you bought it, where a ceremony would be held to thank the Bodhidharma for the services rendered, and then the dolls would be ritually burned. I am not sure what to do if a wish is not fulfilled within the year you bought the doll though…

In any case, my daruma was bought in a simple souvenir shop in Miyajima last year, so I don’t have to return it anywhere. And I don’t have any intentions to burn it until my wish is granted, no matter how long that takes.

What my wish is? Oh, can’t you guess…?

Data entry

I spent all day writing new versions of my resume – both on- and offline. There is a specific job I’d like to apply for, and the company expects a CV – in Japanese.

Only a small reason to panic…

There is in fact a standard form for Japanese CV’s; it covers everything an employer needs to know for the first impression – on two pages only. It can be bought in stationary stores and some companies expect you to use their own, but online forms are also available, for example here. The start of the first page looks like this:

So, what do we have… Besides the usual name, date of birth and age, current address, questions about married status and dependents, as well as a photo on the right, there is also the question about commute time from the current residence to the company – these costs are usually reimbursed. What is absent is place of birth and nationality – Japanese law forbids discrimination based on this (together with discrimination based on gender, religion, or social status). The largest spot is reserved for education and work experience – you are expected to enter all you ever did, starting from elementary school in chronological order. There is also a field for licences and certificates (a driver’s licence get’s the number one spot!), and a rather small one for the triple “Why I want this job / What I can do (skills) / What I like to do (hobbies)”. There is even a field for “requests to the company” which includes salary, but I am not sure how far you can go here. Apparently it’s okay to ask to be placed in a specific branch office in the country.

A detailed “how to fill in a Japanese CV form” can be found on this page, by the way.

Generally these forms are A3 size, with the two pages next to each other. I said above that these forms are available in stationary stores – that is because it is customary to fill it in by hand. I have heard that companies in Japan have handwriting analysts to find out the character and whatnot of the employee-to-be. Well, as my handwritten Japanese resembles that of a five year old, I’ll better don’t try any experiments here – typed it is.

In any case, I’m exhausted now, but now I can start my job hunt in earnest… Wish me luck!

Aoi Matsuri

Last Wednesday, I visited the Aoi matsuri. It takes place every year on May 15th, and is thus the first of the three main matsuri (festivals) in Kyoto (the others are the Gion festival in July and the Jidai festival in October).

Aoi matsuri dates back to the 6th century, when the emperor sent an emissary to the shrines to perform rituals to end a famine caused by ceaseless rains. The name derives from the hollyhock (aoi) leaves all participants wear on their garments, but officially it is named Kamo matsuri, because it involves rituals at two shrines in Kyoto.

Rider with attendant — A rider with his attendant

Essentially, Aoi matsuri is a procession of more than 500 people – all dressed in elaborate Heian-era costumes – 35 horses and two large ox carts, which starts at the imperial palace, stops at Shimagamo shrine for the first set of rituals (that take about two hours), and then moves on to Kamigamo shrine for the final rituals.

Among the 500 people participating in the procession, there are two main figures: Firstly, the imperial messenger, who leads the procession on horseback and is responsible for presenting the emperor’s offerings at the shrines. Secondly, the Saio-dai, a young unmarried woman from Kyoto (in former days a close relative of the reigning emperor) who dedicates herself to Shimogamo shrine. She has to undergo a purification ritual before the festival, and she is the eye catcher of the procession, as she wears the most elaborate of all garments (a so called 12-layer-robe junihitoe, which essentially consists of 12 kimonos word on top of each other) and is carried along in a palanquin. The procession starts at 10:30 at the Imperial Palace and arrives at Kamigamo shrine at around 15:30, so the festival takes all day.

The Saio Dai in her palanquin — The Saio-Dai

I went to the palace about an hour before the start of the procession, and I was lucky to secure a spot in the second row of spectators. It was a perfect day for the spectacle, with bright blue sky, but not too hot weather. Once the procession started, it moved relatively fast, the whole thing had passed me within one hour. It was fascinating to watch…

As I said, there were about 500 participants; men either on foot or on horseback, dressed as warriors, courtiers, priests, acting as attendants or carrying various types of offerings to the shrines or simply responsibility; women, all dressed in multiple layered kimono, some underneath large umbrellas, others on horseback, some on foot, as attendants to the Saio-Dai; and a number of young girls, also representing attendants of the Saio-Dai. Then there were two large ox carts, with man-high, creaking, gold-leafed wooden wheels, pulled by an ox and pushed by maybe 10 men. The whole procession was an explosion of colour, everything was heavily decorated, there were flowers and the hollyhock leaves… it was beautiful.

Courtladies — Ladies of the court - notice the hollyhock leaves

After the procession had passed, the crowd dispersed surprisingly quickly. Although I had not intended it, I went along to Shimogamo shrine after all. Unfortunately I came to late, so I did not see any of the offerings done at the shrine itself. I was, however, lucky enough not to miss the big thing: the horse race. At Shimogamo shrine, there is a short racetrack, where five horses competed in three races. They rode consecutively and were timed individually – unfortunately I had no way of finding out the winner. Again, both riders and horses wore Heian-style attire, and it did not seem easy to stay in the saddle at full speed… Once again I was lucky to get a good spot there as well to take some pictures of the action.

Horse in the race — Horse racing at Shimogamo shrine

However, after the race I decided not to go further to Kamigamo shrine, as it is quite far outside, and also as I would again not have been able to arrive on time to secure a good spot from which to see the offerings. Now I know that there is apparently some archery – from horseback – involved in those rituals… Oh well, next year.

In any case, it was an exciting and beautiful day (I have the sunburn to prove it) and I’m already looking forward to the next matsuri.