All Things Japanese – Page 5

I’m Back!

Yes, holidays are over here too, but it was a nice summer, and pretty hot too. Pumpkin suffered from the heat as much, if not more, than me, he often hid inside the oshiire all day. In the evenings, he would come out and sleep on my desk until it was time to go up to bed. At least in the night, it seems to be much cooler up here than in my old apartment, so I could sleep almost every night. There are also fewer cicadas in the area for some reason, so it gets fairly quiet after sunset.

Work was fairly quiet as well, but of course, it didn’t shut down completely, and What’s up in Kyoto did keep me busy throughout summer. There were two press previews for exhibitions in my time off, and I could convince a friend to come along as my interpreter.

The big thing, however, was the unveiling of the above painting by Nagasawa Rosetsu, which was thought lost since 1971. It resurfaced at an art dealer in Osaka and was bought by the Fukuda Museum in Kyoto after being certified as genuine. The painting of Daikokuten, one of the Seven Lucky Gods, was first presented to a group of journalists (including me) and will be on public display at the museum from Mid-October. This was definitely a summer highlight for me!

A personal highlight was an old friend from university days who made his way to Kyoto after a conference. We met up for dinner and a day at Kurama, a tiny mountain village north of Kyoto with a lovely temple. I hadn’t seen him in years, yet talking to him felt like picking up where we had left off just yesterday. It’s a wonderful feeling when that happens, a sign of true friendship, for me at least.

Anyway, I’m back, and I’ll try to keep this blog – and you – updated with my whereabouts.

Changed Perspectives

Not long after I came to Japan, somebody gave me a stack of books related to Japan: Japanese history, guidebooks, a few novels. I read them – some several times – and put them away.

One of those books was a short historical novel spanning 25 years of the Sengoku and early Edo period at the turn of the 17th century. The topic is tea master Sen-no-Rikyu and his death by suicide ordered by Hideyoshi. The main protagonist is one of his students, the (apparently non-historic) monk Honkaku, and he tries to solve the mystery why Rikyu had to commit suicide in the first place, and why he didn’t even attempt to appease Hideyoshi.

To be honest, when I first read this book some 10 years ago, I didn’t think much of it. Sure, the language is beautiful, even in translation, but I am one of the people who read primarily for the story, and it fell flat for me. Although set in Kyoto, the place names didn’t conjure up any images and the people, whether historic or not, were not fleshed out enough to make them interesting.

The whole novel was centred around the tea ceremony (of which I still only know the bare minimum) and could have just as well taken place in a chashitsu, a tiny tea house (and much of it actually did). So, after the reading the book then, I put it away with a label of “okay-ish”, and moved on.

Recently, something prompted me to pick it up again, and I’m surprised to say that my opinion has changed completely.

In the last 10 years, I visited countless places in Kyoto, and the author places Honkaku’s hermitage somewhere near my house, which is kind of funny. But more importantly, I learned much about Japanese history and culture in that time, not through any systematic study mind you, I just picked up bits and pieces here and there. And they all fell into place perfectly when reading this book again.

I now know about Rikyu and his successor as number one tea master, Furuta Oribe (who, coincidentally, also was ordered to commit suicide). Recently, I discovered the controversial figure of Oda Urakusai, another student of Rikyu’s. I still don’t know enough about tea ceremony to appreciate the many references to famous tea utensils – all of which have a name – however, overall, I found the novel very enjoyable this time around, even though it doesn’t solve the mystery in the end.

All of this goes to show that maybe we should re-read books. Our experiences in the interim may have increased our knowledge of certain details, changed our opinions on something specific, or even our outlook on life and the world as a whole. What we’ve tossed aside as a mere lump of coal may have turned into a diamond while we were busy with other things.

This is not one of my usual book reviews. Firstly, because I cannot unreservedly recommend the book in question. Given my own experience, I think you really need to be familiar with aspects of the tea ceremony, or its early protagonists, to enjoy it.

Secondly, the book still has not been translated into English. However, for my German-speaking readers, the book is Der Tod des Teemeisters by Yasushi Inoue, the Japanese original is called Honkakubo Ibun. Maybe it’s best to find it in a library, lest you are disappointed on the first reading, just like I was.

The Heike Story

Eiji Yoshikawa

Young Heita of the Heike lives in poverty after his father, the samurai Tadanori, fell from grace at court. Not only that, the constant quarreling between his parents often lead him to roam the streets of Kyoto. When Heita becomes a member of the guards at the palace, he takes on a new name – Kiyomori – and soon his talent as a leader shows itself, and he rises in ranks and status. This leads to discontent among the rival Genji clan, and they begin plotting against Kiyomori, even involving the Retired Emperor. Kiyomoro, however, manages to foil all the intrigues, executes or banishes the Genji and their followers and eventually becomes the Chief Councillor to the Emperor. But one act of mercy allows the remaining Genji to hold on to hope, and dark clouds are forming over the head of Kiyomori and the Heike…

The Heike Monogatari is the epic tale of the struggle for power between the houses of Genji and Heike that culminated in the Genpei Wars (1180 – 1185) Eiji Yoshikawa bases his own story on the old tradition and starts with the youth of Kiyomori and tells about the rise of the Heike until shortly before the war begins.

Historical novels, especially when the protagonist is a well-known historical figure, often have to grapple with long stretches of time when nothing much is happening or entire characters drop off the scene. This novel is no exception, and thus there are many parts that could have been shortened. It is a sad fact that strife and battle are so much more interesting than the times of peace in between.

Eiji Yoshikawa (1892 – 1962) was not educated as a writer, yet, he worked as a journalist and wrote numerous short stories and novels. He received the Cultural Order of Merit, the Order of the Sacred Treasure and the Mainichi Art Award. When he died from cancer, he was considered among the best historical novelists of Japan.

I don’t think this book is as good as his Musashi or Taiko, but if you want to give it a try, it’s available from amazon.

Kurodani’s Buddha

At the cemetery of Kurodani temple (the official name is Konkai Komyo-ji) is this unique Buddha statue.

It is called the Gokoshiyui Amida Statue, but, for obvious reasons, it is better known as the “Afro Buddha”. The story goes that this Buddha had such an incredibly long period of training/meditation that the hair grew to this size and shape.

And indeed, the name “Gokoshiyui” can be translated to “5 kalpa thought”, where a kalpa is an aeon, an incredibly long time. Interestingly, while there are definitions of the length of a kalpa in Hinduism (4.32 billion years), Buddhism prefers to use analogies rather than explicit numbers. Wikipedia states that in some definitions, a regular kalpa is 16.8 million years, and there are small, medium and great kalpas as well, the last one being about 1.3 trillion years.

I guess after such a long time of meditation, you can be excused for having a bad hair day. His face also has a wonderful, serene expression, and I wonder what stories he might tell…

The Diving Pool

Yoko Ogawa

This short book is a collection of 3 novellas:

The Diving Pool
Teenage girl Aya falls in love with Jun, who lives at the Light House, Aya’s parents’ orphanage. Every day after school, she watches him as he trains for a diving competition. Aya dreams of getting closer to Jun, but is unaware that he knows her darkest secret…

Pregnancy Diary
An unnamed woman meticulously records her sister’s pregnancy in a diary. She is happily fulfilling all her sister’s cravings for food, especially that for grapefruit jam, freshly boiled. But maybe, there is something sinister behind the ostentatious caretaking…

Dormitory
A young woman sets up her housing in her old university dormitory, which is slowly but inexplicably falling apart. With her husband overseas, she feels bored and finds herself taking care of the dormitory’s elderly manager. He believes that his life and the dormitory’s deterioration are linked, but what is really hiding within its walls?

I enjoyed reading the stories, and Yoko Ogawa is a master of words and vivid imagery. All three stories seem pleasant enough at first glance, but underneath the glossy surface lurks a darkness that only waits for a single moment of inattention…

Yoko Ogawa was born in 1962, studied at Waseda university, and became a medical university secretary. After her marriage, she quit her job and, unbeknownst to her husband, began writing. She won the Kaien Literary Prize for her debut novel n 1988, and has since written more than 50 works, both fiction and nonfiction. She has also won many prestigious literary prizes, among them the Japanese Akutagawa, Yomiuri, and Tanizaki Prize, as well as international awards.

Look behind the scenes of human nature with this book – get it from amazon.

The Priestesses of Ise and Kamo Shrines

Tomorrow, the Aoi Matsuri is taking place, the first of Kyoto’s three big festivals. For the first time in 4 years, a parade will leave the Imperial Palace, visit Shimogamo shrine, and then go on to its final destination, Kamigamo shrine. Of the 500 or so people taking part in the parade, the Saio-dai, who rides in a special palanquin, is the heart of the Aoi Matsuri. These days, she is chosen from among the best families in Kyoto, but in ancient times, she was a daughter of the reigning Emperor.

The practice of sending an Imperial Princess as priestess to Ise shrine started – according to the ancient Nihongi, whose accuracy is doubtful – around the year 92 BCE. The Nihongi states that at that time

“The gods Amaterasu and Ōkunidama were formerly both worshipped in the Emperor’s Palace Hall. But the Emperor Sūjin was frightened of having so much divine power concentrated in one place. Accordingly, he entrusted the worship of Amaterasu to the Princess Toyosuku-iri, bidding her carry it out in the village of Kasanui in Yamato.”

Subsequently, Amaterasu expressed a desire to be moved to Ise.

Becoming a so-called Saigu at Ise shrine was more involved than a mere appointment, at which time the Saigu was around 12 years old. The preparations and purifications took three years, during which the maiden lived at Nonomiya shrine outside of Kyoto in today’s Arashiyama. Only when she was properly prepared, was she allowed to return to the Palace for one last time. There, she received the “Comb of Parting” from her Imperial father, whom she would never see again. This is because her office lasted until

the Emperor died or resigned
the Saigu died or became disabled
either one of her parents died
or ceased to be a virgin (or worse, became pregnant).

Once Buddhism was introduced from China in the 8th century, it quickly took hold at the Imperial Court. However, Ise shrine was the centre of Japan’s Shintoism, and in order not to offend the old gods, a number of interesting speech taboos were imposed upon the Saigu and everybody else in her retinue. For example, Buddha was called “The Centre”, priests “hair-long”, and temples became “tile-covered places”. Other words with changed meaning revolved around death (recovery), tombs (earthen heaps), illness (taking a rest), and blood (sweat).

The tradition of sending a Saigu to Ise shrine ended in 1342, however, even today, Imperial Princesses take an important role in the worship of Amaterasu at special ceremonies.

The Saio or Saiin – the Imperial Princess serving at the Kamo shrines – was modelled after the Saigu of Ise. It is said that during the Kusho War between the Saga and Heisei Emperors, the former prayed to the gods of Kamo. He promised to send a daughter to the shrines if he would win the war. Subsequently, the first Saio was sent to Kamo in 818, and the practice continued until 1204.

In Kyoto, Aoi Matsuri is the largest festival connected to the Saio of the Kamo shrines. However, in October, the Saigu Gyoretsu Procession at Nonomiya shrine re-enacts the sending of a Saigu to Ise shrine, as she travels through the famous bamboo forest and purifies herself in the river.

Both festivals are unique to Kyoto and provide a fascinating glimpse into times long past. Definitely worth watching!

The Maxims of Ieyasu

I’m currently reading a biography of Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543 – 1616), the excellent strategist who united the nation (after quite some preparatory work by Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi) and who became the first shogun of the Edo period. His family effectively ruled Japan for more than 250 peaceful years.

At this point, I don’t want to go into details – I haven’t finished the book yet – but here are what is generally known as the “Maxims of Ieyasu”, which I found insightful and inspiring.

Man’s life is like going a long journey under a heavy burden: one must not hurry.
If you regard discomfort as a normal condition, you are not likely to be troubled by want.
When ambition arises in your mind, consider the days of your adversity.
Patience is the foundation of security and long life: consider anger as an enemy.
He who only knows victory and doesn’t know defeat will fare badly.
Blame yourself: don’t blame others.
The insufficient is better than the superfluous.

Especially the fourth maxim about patience is something Ieyasu practiced extensively. There is the famous saying about a bird and what measures to take if it doesn’t sing.
Oda Nobunaga would kill it.
Toyotomi Hideyoshi would force it to sing.
Tokugawa Ieyasu would wait until it sings on its own accord.

Kimono Folding

On Wednesday, when I talked about the absence of wardrobes in traditional Japanese homes, I also mentioned in passing that Japanese clothes are folded in a special way, so they can be stored lying flat in a tansu. Here is a quick video that shows you how to properly fold a kimono or summer yukata:

What she doesn’t show is that at the end, the thus folded kimono is wrapped into paper before it is put away. It adds an extra layer of protection from dust and critters, and often, these paper wrappings are very pretty in themselves.

Daitoku-ji

In the north of Kyoto lies Daitoku-ji, the “Temple of Great Virtue”. It is not one single temple, but rather a sprawling complex of 22 subtemples located on 27 hectares of land. Daitoku-ji belongs to the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism, and in fact it is the headquarters of its own branch of Buddhism.

It was founded around 1315 by the monk Daito Kokushi with imperial support as a small monastery. Like many buildings in Kyoto, the temple was destroyed during the Onin Wars of the 15th century but was rebuilt later. Therefore, the main buildings of Daitoku-ji – altogether National Treasures – date back only to the 15th century.

The main buildings of the temple are the vermilion Sanmon Gate, the Buddha and Dharma Halls, the Abbot’s Quarters, as well as a Bathhouse and a Sutra Library. In front of the Sanmon Gate lies the Chokushimon (Imperial Messenger Gate) that was moved here from the Imperial Palace.

These buildings, although they are not usually accessible, can all be viewed from the main path that leads through the temple and is lined with large pine trees. Smaller paths lead to the gates of the different subtemples that are all more or less independent and were added to the complex over time, often founded by noble families.

Daitoku-ji saw a boost in prominence in the late 16th century when Hideyoshi donated land and money and had the remains of Oda Nobunaga and his closest family buried in the specially founded subtemple Soken-in. I’ve posted about Soken-in before, to my mind it’s not the most exciting of all the temples of the complex.

Daitoku-ji is also connected to tea master Sen-no-Rikyu, who had the vermillion Sanmon Gate renovated. A popular story has it that he placed an image of himself in the second floor of this gate, which enraged Hideyoshi so much that he ordered him to commit seppuku.

To this day, the whole temple complex is a living monastery, where monks learn, teach, and practice Buddhism. Therefore, many of the subtemples are generally not accessible to the public, except for short viewings during select times.

One of the most important subtemples is Shinju-an, which was founded in 1491 in memory of Ikkyu Sojun, who was essential for the rebuilding of Daitoku-ji. He was a rather eccentric priest, and Shinju-an treasures his memory with fusuma paintings by contemporary artists. It is also the place where the fathers of modern Noh, Kan-ami and Ze-ami, are buried.

The subtemple Daisen-in is one of the most important Zen temples of all Kyoto. It has fusuma paintings by Zen monk Soami, but the important thing to see is the dry landscape garden that stems from the Muromachi era. It depicts the Chinese idea of paradise, and its pebbly waters flow all around the main hall.

Juko-in is the family temple for Sen-no-Rikyu and his descendants, and thus plays an important role in Kyoto’s tea world. All the heads of the three main family branches of tea ceremony are buried here. Juko-in is also famous for its16th-century fusuma paintings by Kano Eitoku.

Most of the subtemples of Daitoku-ji hold important treasures of Japanese history, may it be their buildings themselves, their fusuma paintings, or Buddhist statues or other relics. While they may seem all alike to the casual observer, it is worth looking at the little details that make all the difference.

As mentioned, the subtemples are only accessible at select times. On most days, 2-4 subtemples are open to the public. Daisen-in, Zuiho-in, Koto-in, and Ryogen-in are open throughout the year, many others for short periods in spring and autumn or during special occasions. This makes Daitoku-ji one of the quieter places to visit in Kyoto and fun to explore.

The Nakano Thrift Shop

Hiromi Kawakami

When Hitomi starts working in Mr. Nakano’s store, he tells her right away that they do not sell antiques, but rummage. It is a quiet store and every so often Mr. Nakano goes out with young Takeo to buy now old merchandise. Between old ashtrays, life-size advertisements cutouts, odd ball customers and old vases, affection slowly grows between Hitomi and Takeo. As both have been burnt by love before, their relationship is an awkward to-and-fro, with moments of intimacy and periods of rejection. And all between that, we hear of the women in Mr. Nakano’s life; about his current lover, but also about his ever present sister Masayo and the love of her life.

The Nakano Thrift Shop is the thread that weaves through a number of episodes in the lives of the protagonists, all of them centred on love in one way or the other. However, the decision of Mr. Nakano to open a real antiques shop in a more upscale neighbourhood tears apart the fragile web between the characters, and leaves a sense of loss in its wake.

Hiromi Kawakami was born in Tokyo in 1958 and started her career as a writer with science fiction stories, directly after graduating from college. She has since received numerous Japanese literary awards, including the Akutagawa Prize, the Tanizaki Prize, and the Yomiuri Prize.

This lovely book of people that are still trying to find their own path in society is available from amazon.