I just came home from the big party in the inner city tonight. The whole inner city where the floats are standing is a pedestrian zone, and there are thousands of people on the street. The atmosphere is light hearted and relaxed, I’ve taken tons of pictures of lovely Japanese in Yukata and with an extra broad smile on their faces…
Today, there is the main parade of Gion matsuri, where the 32 floats that have been constructed in the last week will be drawn through the city – by manpower only, mind! I will have to get up early to claim the best spot for pictures, so to speak, so I’m off to bed now. I will report on Saturday.
Today is a national holiday in Japan, called Umi-no-Hi, translated as “Marine Day”. It takes place every third Monday in July and is meant to celebrate the ocean surrounding Japan in general. Many people take some time out to go to the beach.
Kyoto, however, is land locked and has no beach – although you could go a bit further North and visit lake Biwa. But, there is still Gion matsuri going on. In fact, the three days – yoiyama – from July 14th through 16th, leading up to the great procession on the 17th are the liveliest days of Gion matsuri. The floats for the procession have been finished and can be visited, some can even be climbed by spectators, for a fee of course. At each float people can buy special charms that are somehow tied to its history, and the original tapestries that cover the floats are on display, many of them dating back to the 17th or 18th century.
By now, the back streets where the floats are located are closed for traffic, and there are numerous stalls selling toys or clothing or various kinds of food (it’s amazing what you can put onto a stick, although I have to say the sausages and cucumbers look a bit … you get the idea.) Many spectators of all ages can be seen wearing yukata, the gorgeous light cotton summer kimonos of all colours that I find so attractive, especially on the sexy young men around here, they are so my kind of … but, I digress. The whole thing is an enormous party, in the evenings even the very big streets become pedestrian zones, and the whole atmosphere is light and cheerful. Tomorrow, the evening just before the procession of the floats is traditionally the biggest evening, and I will be there again, enjoying the lights and the atmosphere and in general … the views.
Gion matsuri is one of the three greatest local festivals in Japan, together with the Kanda matsuri in Tokyo and the Tenjin matsuri in Osaka, but it is said to be the largest and gayest of the three. It is also one of the three most important ones in Kyoto, together with the Aoi matsuri and the Jidai matsuri. It starts on July 1st and ends on July 31st, and there are many different events taking place throughout the month and throughout the neighborhood of Gion and the inner city. The two most important events take place on July 10th and 17th.
Gion matsuri is the festival associated with Gion shrine, the old name of Yasaka shrine. It started in 869, when the country was stricken with a plague and the emperor dispatched his messenger to Gion shrine for pray for the end of the plague. The brother of the sun goddess is inshrined at Yasaka, and in order to relieve the sick, his spirit was carried, in little portable shrines, through Kyoto. As this proved successful to end the plague, this ritual is still performed today.
July 10th is the day of Mikoshi Arai Purification, a purification rite in which the Mikoshi, a small portable shrine in which the principle deity will be transported, is taken to the river and cleansed with water from the Kamo. The preparations are extensive, and the whole ceremony takes several hours.
First there is the Omukae Chochin, a procession of children dressed in various costumes and accompanying adults with lanterns and musicians playing flutes and drums, which leaves Yasaka shrine at 4:30 pm. They welcome the other procession of the Mikoshi later on.
After a break, at 7 pm, a second procession leaves the shrine, goes to the river, and then returns to the shrine again. It consists of young men dressed in traditional white clothes, Happi, carrying an enormous torch with them, the fire and smoke of which is meant to cleanse the path for the Mikoshi.
This portable shrine, fastened onto long, heavy wooden beams is carried on the shoulders of the same young men to the river in the final and largest procession of the day. Two or three of the same massive torches as before are carried in front and at the end of the procession, in the middle of which is the Mikoshi. Here, the men are shouting, rhythmically encouraging each other to greater efforts. At times they stop and the men carrying the Mikoshi start jumping up and down, rocking the little shrine, and then, as a final move they lift it up high over their heads.
When they – now merged with the childrens’ procession of the afternoon – arrive back at the shrine, the Mikoshi, after circling the centre stage and being lifted and rocked one last time, is then placed onto the platform of the stage at the centre of the shrine and covered again with gold cloth, metal mirrors, and red rope.
Meanwhile, there are dances performed by the four groups of children that walked in the afternoon procession. In the picture below, the little ones with the red wigs are between three and five years old, and the boys dressed as swans are six. The whole ceremony was finished and the Mikoshi redressed in its usual golden splendor at around 10 pm. Once again I am sorry that I neither understand the details of the ceremony, nor the significance of the costumes or the dances. But then again, I wonder how many of the Japanese spectators do.
Yesterday was the seventh day of the seventh month, which is the day when the Tanabata festival takes place. The legend tells of two lovers, Orihime (represented by Vega) and Hikoboshi (Altair), who have to live all year separated by the Milky Way, and are only allowed to meet for one single night – on the seventh day of the seventh month. A very touching story indeed… The date of course refers to the lunar calender, and in some places (Sendai for example), it is still celebrated then. It seems to be a very local festival, with varying types of celebrations, often even depending on the participating shrine. A fixed part of the festivities everywhere is to write a wish onto a piece of paper and tie it to one of the bamboo trees that are set up at shrines, and pray to the gods for the fulfillment of the wishes. Never short of things I want, I went to Shiramine shrine, because the ceremony there has an extra feature…
It was an especially nice ceremony indeed. It was performed by three Shinto priests of different ranks, with incantations in front of the shrine in the beginning. Then, at the raised platform in the center of the precincts, a quartet of musicians (one koto and three types of wind instruments I couldn’t quite make out) began to play a tune that can be described as … odd, at least to Western ears. They accompanied a group of four shrine maidens, elaborately dressed, with fans and headgear, who performed a dance in honour of the deity. I am quite sure every single movement had a specific meaning, but of course, it was completely lost on me.
After the dance, the ceremony continued and once again, a small number of (most certainly paying) participants could take part in the ritual offering of paper and green branches to the deity. Some more chanting concluded the ceremony.
The interesting bit here was a person with a microphone telling the spectators – and also the participants – what would happen next, when they had to stand, bow, and were allowed to sit again. It reminded me very much of the priests in our churches who, at weddings, funerals and the like, have to guide their hapless sheep in a quite similar manner…
Anyway, at the end of the ceremony, the fun feature began. Shiramine is the shrine where people go to pray for luck – in various ball games, especially soccer. Usually, a shrine receives offerings for the gods to grant a wish and when they have done so. And here, there are many footballs of all sizes offered, often with a note or signature written on them, and they are displayed. It gives the shrine an appearance very different from all the others with their large stacks of sake barrels!
So, the fun feature at Shiramine shrine every year at the Tanabata festival is the playing of the ball game called Kemari, where eight players, men and women, wonderfully dressed in old court costumes and black leather shoes, play kick up with a white ball made from deer skin, which had just been blessed in the preceding ceremony. It was very hot and humid yesterday, and the players’ clothing with its several layers and endless sleeves and hakama must have been incredibly hot indeed, but the obvious and genuine fun the players had in the game made it extra fun to watch too. When the game was over, some of the spectators were invited to try kick ups as well, which I thought was a very nice move.
I went home then, bought some sweet bread and a chocolate milk and took a break on a shadowy bench at the river. It was a wonderful day.
I love sweets. Always did. My favourite is chocolate of course, milk chocolate to be precise. My approach is more gourmand than gourmet, but being a woman I can at least point to scientific studies indicating I need it for both my health and my happiness…
Anyway, it seems that Asian people have a different approach to sweets. First of all, the idea of dessert is all but unknown. If any is offered, it is mostly assorted fruit, or you can pick up some candy when paying. Second, chocolate does not appear to be very popular here. Yes, there are a number of Japanese brands, but I haven’t seen anything beyond dark-milk-white unless imported. There are chocolate cookies, chocolate covered nuts and the like, but it appears that the Japanese are more fond of salty snacks. To be fair, eating chocolate in summer is a rather sticky experience, and I am not a big fan of eating it straight out of the fridge, although I will in times of great need. Nowadays there are many bakeries selling bread and cakes, but very often they are of a rather spongy quality which makes them all taste the same after a while.
Of course, there are traditional Japanese sweets, and many a festive occasion is celebrated by making special sweets that are to be eaten only then. For example, New Year’s Day requires eating a rather special type of sticky mochi.
Mochi are little balls of sticky rice dough, mixed with a tremendous amount of sugar and often coated in some as well. They are soft to the touch, have a somewhat chewy consistency and come essentially in three flavours: plain (white), cherry (pink), and green tea (green), where the latter is the most widely available, and I think tastes the best. From this mochi dough, other sweets are derived, and I have recently been given those daifuku, perfectly packed in a beautiful presentation box: They were maybe four centimetres in diameter and consisted of some mochi dough a few millimeters thick on the outside. They were filled with anko, red bean paste, which is very sweet – when enough sugar is added. To be honest, I don’t like the taste very much, but sometimes, when the paste is the smooth one, with the husks of the beans removed, I find it tolerable enough. The ones shown here were comparatively hard on the outside, very different from the unfilled mochi, but the reason could be that I ate them close to the expiration date and all the water that makes the mochi so soft may have been gone already. I had them for breakfast, and it always surprises me how long you are satisfied after only one or two of them.
If you have the opportunity to try daifuku, do so – but be warned of the red bean paste, it’s not to everybody’s liking…
Yesterday was June 30th – the last day of the first half of the year. In Japan, this is the day of Nagoshi no Harae – an ancient Shinto purification rite. At the shrines where this ritual is performed, a very large wreath made of miscanthus reed and paper strips is set up at a gate or torii. The idea is that people walk through it and thus purify themselves of the sins of the first half year. Additionally, small paper dolls can be handed out, something is written on them (not sure what, either the name of the person or the defilement they want to get rid of) and then they are thrown into a pond or a river to wash away and with it the sins of the person. Some people pick out strands of the reed from the large wreath, make a smaller one from it and hang it over their entrance door in order to protect the house from misfortune.
Well, nothing better than to have a fresh start every now and then I thought and made my way to Heian shrine where the ceremony started at 4 pm. The wreath was set up at the entrance, and there were many people walking through it, essentially in an “eight” shaped pattern. It’s a pity I couldn’t read the instructions next to the wreath, so only when it was too late I found out I did only half of the pattern. If that took care of half of my sins only, it’s a start 😉
Anyway, there was a spot set apart with curtains for people to take part in the larger ceremony. They were given some small paper dolls to write upon and handed them back to the shrine maidens, together with an envelope containing money. Then they could enter the enclosure and waited patiently. At 4 pm sharp, a group of Shinto priests started from one of the buildings, left the shrine through a side exit and entered it again through the wreath. When they arrived at the fenced off area, the ceremony began with individual bowing – strictly by order of rank, of course – to a small altar, then the main priest began chanting. The other participants were invited to step forward to the altar, and they seemed to be throwing small pieces of paper over their shoulders (or possibly at the altar, I was too far away to know for sure). When all the participants were finished, the chanting stopped. The main priest stepped forward, also threw some paper over his shoulder, then tore up several large, long pieces of white paper in swift movements. After that, he swung a branch with green leaves over his head once for each cardinal direction. And that was the main public ceremony. After that, all the priests went to the main shrine building, followed by the other paying participants. I did not want to follow, so I cannot say what they did there, but it seemed that the further ceremony was private anyway. I do know however, that behind the main shrine building there is a garden with a large pond, so maybe the paper dolls were drowned there?
Once again, I found it an interesting experience, but unfortunately I could not understand exactly what was going on. It would be interesting to participate in such a ceremony, but I will have to wait for my Japanese to drastically improve, because I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself. I don’t think being a foreigner would be much of an issue in that case, as I mentioned before the Japanese are quite inclusive when it comes to religion. Maybe in a few years…
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.
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.
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.
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)!
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.
