Numerology

It’s Friday 13th – need I say more?

In Japan, the number 13 is not considered particularly unlucky – that’s a superstition imported from the West. It’s not as if the Japanese are completely free of odd beliefs when it comes to numbers though. The numbers 4 and 9 are considered unlucky. 4 because its Chinese reading is “shi”, and the word for death is also pronounced “shi”. 9 is unlucky because its pronunciation as “ku” sounds like “suffering”. Like in the West, where the number 13 is often avoided in hotels (from floor 12 you go straight to 14) or airlines (no rows 13), the same holds in Japan for the numbers 4 and 9, although it seems to be more common not to have a 4th floor than not to have a 9th. Apparently, planes of All Nippon Airways have no seats with numbers 4 or 9, and many hospitals do not have rooms with these numbers. These beliefs spill over to other areas as well. For example, when giving gifts, you should always take care to give odd numbers – 3 or 5 plates for instance, not 4. For occasions where money is considered appropriate, like weddings, an odd amount (other than 9000) is better than an even one. The best would be a gift of size or amount including 8 though, as 8 is considered a lucky number. The kanji for 8 consists of two strokes that are farther apart on the bottom than on the top, which signifies that a better future lies ahead.

What I find very interesting is that there are lots of odd numbers in many normal packages: Meiji chocolate has 15 little pieces, there are 11 chocolate covered cookies and 5 chocolate buns per pack, and my favourite sweets – chocolate covered macadamia nuts – come in packages of 9 (the suffering is probably in the weight gain). And the last time we opened two 98g packs of chocolate covered almonds – one of them contained 23, and the other one 25. odd numbers of chocolate

Coincidence? I’m not sure. But I might be eating too much chocolate…

Commerce

Today, I wrote Christmas cards to a (very small) number of my friends. It’s about two weeks to go and I’m not in any sort of Christmas mood, to be honest. Part of it is that I’m not religious and that for years already I didn’t receive any presents I hadn’t bought myself. Another part is that Japan does not really lend itself to the Christmas mood: It does not snow (here in Kyoto at least) until well into January if at all, the Japanese are not Christians, nor is there a sizable foreign community that is celebrating it, and the big Japanese thing – New Year’s – is just another week down the line.

It’s not completely ignored either though. A few private houses here do have Christmas decorations (of the gaudy American variety), and through an open window I could see a Christmas tree in a living room last week already. Stores are different of course. Even very small ones have at least some small Christmas decoration, and in the large shopping streets like Shijo or Teramachi or the big department stores like Daimaru and Takashimaya, they almost go overboard, again American style, including the annoying Christmas carols – I even heard the German “O Tannenbaum”…children looking at a store window with Christmas cards, 1910

Anyway, I didn’t even notice what was missing until my friend pointed it out while visiting the Loft yesterday when he said: “It’s all totally commercialized.” And he was right, there is no sense of tradition behind it all – because it is not a Japanese tradition. No baking cookies, no waiting for the snow, no hiding presents for the kids, no mulled wine, no “Adventskalender” or “Adventskranz” as we have it in Austria. It’s just about shopping and spending money. At least, they are totally honest about it…

Needles

I am not sure whether this is a genuinely Japanese thing, or if it is something of the Eastern culture in general, but I have to say, there are all sorts of … interesting religious ceremonies around… Yesterday I went to Horin-ji temple in the Arashiyama district of Kyoto, where a memorial service for needles was held, needles as in sewing needles. The ritual appears to date back to the Heian era, even today people bring their used or even broken needles to this temple and pray for better sewing skills and a happy family.

The ceremony took place in the main hall of the temple and started – after four women with colorful dresses and beautiful hair ornaments and a number of priests had entered and seated themselves – with a short performance of traditional music. Then, the head priest who was sitting in front of the altar started reading or rather chanting a long incantation or prayer in a loud voice. When he was finished the other priests placed themselves in front of the altar and, also chanting, threw little oval pieces of paper over their shoulders to the people sitting behind them. The paper was about the size of a palm and had an image of the Buddha on one side; apparently it is a charm and the way it is distributed is meant to resemble falling leaves. Anyway, those leaves were readily snatched up by the worshippers, and the dancers also distributed some. Their big performance was shortly afterwards, when they started dancing a very slow traditional dance to traditional music. 4 women dance at the needle ceremonyWhen the dance was over – it started and ended with a bow to the altar – more chants were intonated, but all of a sudden and without warning, permission was given to start the actual needle ceremony: A number of large needles with colorful threads had been prepared as well as blocks of what I first thought was wax (it turned out to be much softer, like jelly, but I have no idea what it really was), and people were invited to take one of the needles and stick them into the blocks while saying their prayers. sticking the needles into the blockThat was the main part of the ceremony, and most of the people left immediately afterwards. They did not hear the final piece of music or saw the women and priests clean up and leave. They also did not notice when two of the dancers returned to do their own needle ceremony. Once again, I found this very strange, but then again, the whole idea of a service for needles is a bit … special, isn’t it?

Geisha

I guess that the top three things associated with Japan are sushi, samurai, and geisha. While sushi is easily available all over the world these days, and samurai are readily identified as men with swords and that extra bit of honour, the world of the geisha is even nowadays a carefully guarded one where not everybody is allowed to enter, lest take part. This, as well as the fact that the hanamachi (geisha districts, literally “flower town”) are operating with ancient rules and traditions, the meaning of which has long been lost to the outside observer, has given rise to a number of misconceptions and misunderstandings even among Japanese.

It starts with the name: geisha means literally “art person”, she is a woman trained in a number of traditional Japanese arts and plays the part of hostess at parties generally visited by men. She is there to entertain the guests with singing, dancing, witty conversation, general attentiveness, and just the right amount of flirtation; in short, she is there to embody that image of the perfect woman every man fantasizes about – the perfect unattainable woman, because she will always go home alone.a geisha is perfect elegance even when putting on her zoriLike in many traditional Japanese arts, the first geisha were men, as women were not allowed to go to parties and mingle with men. In the 18th century however, women began to appear as geisha (how this came to pass is unclear), and they quickly became very popular of course. Geisha were independent and worked for themselves, and the brothels or oiran felt threatened by what they saw as competition. So, the government set up rules what geisha were allowed to wear, and how, where, and when they could entertain. Instead of curbing the business, however, this only fanned the flames, and geisha became hugely popular – in the 1920s, there were about 70.000 geisha all over Japan.

In these old days, girls as young as five or six started working and training at an okiya (geisha house). Not few of them were sold by their poor parents to the okiya and had to work there until they could repay the costs for their training. Nowadays becoming a geisha is a normal, albeit somewhat rare career choice for a girl. They usually enter an okiya at 18 (in Kyoto at 16) and start the demanding training of five years until they – at least the most determined ones of them – give their debut as geisha.

A typical training begins with the application of the girl to the okasan (mother) of an okiya. If she is accepted, the okasan will pay for her training and also act as her manager, and the girl will move into the okiya as a shikomi, essentially a maid helping around the house. She will now try to find a mentor among the geisha in the okiya, and once she has been accepted by her onesan (older sister), the so called misedashi ceremony will turn her into a maiko, an apprentice geisha. This is the time when she adopts a stage name that will be hers throughout her career, and often the geisha in an okiya share the first syllable of their stage names. a maiko on the way to workPart of a maiko’s training will be conducted at a kaburenjo, a training school for geisha, where different types of art are taught: ikebana (flower arranging), shodoh (calligraphy), sadoh (tea  ceremony), and traditional Japanese dance and music (shamisen, koto, fue, etc.). Another part of the training is learning to speak the dialect of the local hanamachi, and how to entertain all types of men and what to do at parties in general. For that, the maiko will accompany her onesan, but does this only to observe – and to be introduced and to make connections for her future career. Finally, there are intricacies of polite Japanese behaviour to learn: whom to greet first for example, or how deep to bow. This happens mainly by interacting with the other people in the hanamachi, by visiting other okiya or teahouses, for example. Maiko and Geisha - spot the differenceOnce the training of a maiko is completed, she will make her debut as a geisha after a ceremony called eriage, which literally means “turning the collar” of her underkimono from a red to a white one. This is only one way of distinguishing maiko and geisha. The appearance of a maiko is usually that of a young girl, with very colourful kimono and bright obi. A maiko’s kimono has long sleeves that almost reach to the floor; most often they wear their obi in a long dangling style to show off the pattern. To avoid trailing the expensive kimono on the floor, they must wear 10 cm high wooden okobo, and a part of their earliest training consists of learning how to walk in them. Maiko also have an elaborate hairstyle that includes many colourful hair ornaments and is difficult to maintain.

One of the things many maiko choose to do once they turn into a geisha is to cut off their hair and wear wigs instead. This saves them hours at the hairdresser’s each week, and now they can use real pillows instead of the tiny ones that allow no movement that could destroy the hairdo in the night. In general, a geisha’s appearance is more subdued than that of a maiko, as a geisha represents a mature woman. A geisha’s kimono is less ornate and colourful, the sleeves are much shorter, and the obi is worn in a more compact way. Another boon of being a geisha is that the more simple kimono now allows them to wear normal zori sandals, instead of the okobo. a mature geisha - note the hairstyle!These are the most obvious changes from maiko to geisha, but there are many little details only the truly initiated can spot. Maiko’s hairstyles and collar patterns change from year to year; the more mature a maiko or geisha, the less flaunting her kimono becomes as she is now able to rely on her skills rather than to impress with her dress; and there are people who can tell, just by looking at the kimono and hair ornaments of a maiko which month of the year it is.

Nowadays, geisha are not only accomplished entertainers, but also smart businesswomen. In fact, the hanamachi are entirely run by women – from the maiko, their big sisters and mothers, to the owners of the teahouses that employ them. All geisha are unmarried but I guess boyfriends are allowed these days. A geisha getting married marks the time of her retirement, which is celebrated by the final ceremony of hiki iwai. She may now stop taking classes and can move out of her okiya. Often, however, retired geisha open their own teahouse or okiya and stay in the hanamachi in this capacity. a typical maiko hairdo with lots of ornaments. A private evening with a geisha is almost prohibitively expensive, which may be one reason why the number of geisha is dwindling – there are less than 1000 in Japan these days, mostly in Kyoto and Tokyo. There are some public performances throughout the year though, and occasions where you can see maiko and geisha walking the streets on the way to their work, especially in Kyoto’s Gion district. The photos here were taken at a public ceremony last month, by the way.

Heritage

Japanese cuisine as a whole has just been assigned as a UNESCO “Intangible Cultural Heritage“. The definition of such is as follows (see the wikipedia article):

Intangible Cultural Heritage means the practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, skills – as well as the instruments, objects, artifacts and cultural spaces associated therewith – that communities, groups and, in some cases, individuals recognize as part of their cultural heritage. This intangible cultural heritage, transmitted from generation to generation, is constantly recreated by communities and groups in response to their environment, their interaction with nature and their history, and provides them with a sense of identity and continuity, thus promoting respect for cultural diversity and human creativity.

traditional Japanese breakfastJapan was the first country in the 1950s to protect cultural heritages like this by law, and it is among the countries that has the most intangible cultural heritage items on the UNESCO list, for example Noh theatre and gagaku court music, of which I have written before. Theatre, music, and handicraft are common cultural heritage, but Japanese cuisine is only the fifth one to be included, the others are French, Mediterranean, Turkish, and Mexican cuisine.

It surprises me a little that the whole of Japanese cuisine is designated as intangible cultural heritage, from Kyoto’s palace-derived haute cuisine kaiseki (see the breakfast above for an idea) to Portuguese-introduced or invented (?) tempura; from the quickly prepared ramen and udon noodles to the painstakingly slow process of making the various types of yuba; from raw sushi and sashimi to deliciously cooked unagi; and I am sure it even includes natto, the harmless English translation “fermented soybeans” not quite capturing the atrocity of its taste…

Over time I will have lots of occasion to eat and try much of Japan’s culinary art, maybe even learn how to prepare one or two of those dishes. I shall report accordingly, promised!

(T)issues

When I was studying last week in the library, I got reminded of one of the things I find most annoying about Japan (Asia in general to be fair). Libraries are quite popular in Japan, many people go there not only to borrow books and leave again, but also to read, study, or work there. It could be the attraction of warmth in winter and air condition in summer of course, but let’s not be cynical. Anyway, during my stay in the library there were a number of other students, some guy who seemed to do animation on his laptop, a couple of people reading. And there was this elderly man with a pile of very thick books in front of him doing what I would describe as “research”. And annoying the hell out of me…

While I was attempting to solve grammar puzzles in one of my timed tryout tests, he started sniffling, which is the most annoying sound imaginable, even if you’re not sitting only 3 metres away in what otherwise is total silence, trying to focus on something difficult. Clearly, the problem is not really a problem had the person been an (adult) Westerner: You simply blow your nose.

Unfortunately this is exactly the issue in Japan: Blowing your nose in public is on the same level as picking it in public in the Western world: completely rude and unacceptable. Thinking about it, I cannot help wondering why this is the case (for the blowing, I mean…) It’s not as if tissues were not readily available –a box of kleenex tissues they are often being offered for free as advertisement for shops or events. In winter, Kleenex are sold in large 6-packs, and readily snatched up by shoppers. I have admit that sometimes I have felt the sudden urge to yell “Don’t just buy them, use them too!” Also, especially the Japanese are very considerate and neat people where everything needs to be “just so” and offending others is a no-go. But this could be part of it: That everything coming out of the body, so to speak, is considered unclean and you cannot offend others with it, while making an effort (and annoying noise) not to blow your noise is considered less offensive.

Anyway, the solution could be so simple: Just go to the toilet, do your business and return – hopefully without sniffling for a while. Unfortunately again, the old Japanese man did not even dream of doing that, and probably even a Japanese would have difficulties finding a polite way of suggesting exactly that.

So, there I sat, trying to focus on my test rather than counting the seconds between the noise. I managed somehow not to explode (I am so proud) and after a while the sniffles were replaced with the rhythmic, almost inaudible sound of soft snoring – he had fallen asleep…

Afterthoughts

So, the big JLPT N4 test was yesterday, starting at 12:30 and ending at about 16:30. It took place a bit south of Kyoto in the Kyoto University of Education’s Fujinomori campus, but it was quite easy to reach. Two rooms were reserved for my level and there were 52 people in my room – a ratio of 50% Westerners 50% Asians by the way – so I guess there were 100 people on my level overall.

The test was conducted in a very strict, I’d almost say Japanese, manner. The room’s door was closed exactly on time, no way of being late even a single minute. First, general instructions were read: What was allowed on the table, phones off, etc. Then the answer sheets were handed out and afterwards the booklet with the questions for the first part. More instructions were given: “Check whether name and number on your answer sheet are correct. Now pick up your pencil and write your name and number on the question booklet.” Of course, all of those instructions were given in Japanese, which was, certainly on our level, of disputable usefulness. One hapless guy started to fill in his name the moment he received the question booklet and was promptly and loudly and in Japanese yelled at: “Put that pencil down. Put it down! NOW!” I could not help wondering if these people realized that we were all adults in there… After everything was explained, handed out and filled in, we had to wait for the exact minute the test was supposed to start, and after the allotted time was over, we were supposed to drop the pencil in that very second. We were only allowed to leave the room once all paper was collected, counted once and then again, just to be sure nothing went missing. And that three times with about 25 minutes break in between, until the final listening section was over and were free to leave. Results will be sent out in February next year.

How did I do? Well, I ran out of time in the first section and had to leave some questions unanswered – I didn’t even have time to fill in random answers. I may have done reasonably well on the reading section, but I was very tired and my mind started wandering during the listening part. Overall, I don’t think I made it.

There is this one question I remember that I’d like to share with you. It was in the vocabulary section where a sentence is given, and then there are four more sentences paraphrasing one of the words and you have to pick the answer sentence with the correct meaning. In this one the answers were:
I want a new bag and wallet.
I want a new desk and bed.
I want a new pen and notebook.
I want a new camera and video camera.
The question sentence was:
I want new *** – containing the only word in that whole part I didn’t know… And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how it is possible to know 90% of the stuff and still fail the exam.

Anyway, I will take today off – it will be a very nice and sunny day. I have chosen a direction and will take my camera for a walk. I’m curious as to what I’ll find this time…

Yatsuhashi

Three types of yatsuhashi
In my attempt to explore Japanese food – especially sweets – I have come across one of the most famous sweets of Kyoto: Yatsuhashi. Yatsuhashi fall into the category “mochi”, but only barely so. They consist of very thin (maybe two millimetres) mochi dough at the outside, have about a teaspoonful of filling inside, and come in characteristic triangular shape.

I like them very much because they come in so many different flavours. The standard “green tea outside, anko read beans inside” is available everywhere and at all times, but Japanese also like the seasonal flavours like ringo (apple), momo (peach), ichigo (strawberry), or, right now kuri (chestnut). Black sesame is also a year round favourite, as is imo (sweet potato); and yatsuhashi are often bought as souvenir. The mochi dough outside, flavoured with a tiny bit of sugar and cinnamon – which you can buy fresh without filling or even dried  –  is not overly sweet, but the filling (not really marmalade, but some type of smooth paste) always hits you with the extra amount of sugar…

Renewal

Three months have passed since my last visit to the hospital and today was my new appointment to get a refill of my pills. Actually I went to the hospital on Monday already to have the bloodwork done on time, but the experience was pretty much the same.

As I got registered in the hospital’s database and received a nice plastic card with all my data on it last time already, all I needed to do this time was to go straight to one of the machines looking like ATM’s in the foyer and enter my card there. The display said something in Japanese, I answered in full trust “Yes”, and was issued one of those mobile-phone style beepers I talked about in depth last time. Going up to my department’s reception, I said hello and was pointed toward my doctor’s office, outside of which I took a seat. I had brought something to study, and as I was almost 30 minutes early, I was ready for a longer wait and took out my stuff. I hadn’t even finished getting everything out when the beeper went off telling me that my doctor was ready for me!

Inside, my doctor and I agreed that I was doing just fine and should keep the same amount of medication. Besides that, he suggested I should eat more sushi. Seriously! Part of my bloodwork shows variations from the norm that might indicate an insufficient protein intake. Yes, I have been eating very little meat and I do agree that there’s probably not that much milk in chocolate as I might like. I promised to be more careful in that matter and left him – next appointment in March.

From there, everything went as last time: Go downstairs, present printout to the accountant, wait for beeper to indicate price, pay, and leave. From my arrival in the hospital until I left it and went to the pharmacy the whole procedure took 25 minutes, and I’m happy to state that the longest thing in all this was the actual consultation. I guess it was just a slow day with not too many people, because I had to wait much longer when I had the bloodwork done on Monday. Today, however, the longest wait was at the pharmacy until I received my pills…

Tryouts

My studies having progressed as far as they could until now, I went to the library today and did a practice JLPT test in preparation for Sunday. I’m glad it was not the real test – I would have failed miserably…

The part with the Kanji turned out quite well, surprisingly. The daily practice I’ve been doing for months now obviously paid off. The reading part was less successful, but it was clearly a question of time. My reading comprehension is not yet automated, I still have to do a lot of translating, which takes extra time that you don’t have.

The biggest problem still: vocabulary. I know a sufficient amount of words – but obviously the wrong ones… A very mean part of the test is the one where a sentence is given, but part of it – four words to be precise – is scrambled, and you have to put the words in the right order; and the question asks only for the word on a certain spot. This is very difficult to begin with, as word order can depend on the speaker’s emphasis (just like in English), so you really have to know the grammar inside out. If you know the vocabulary, you may be able to educatedly guess your way around that, but if you don’t…

I did not do a listening comprehension this afternoon as the one spot where you could do that was taken. Oh well, tomorrow again…