A European's move towards Japan
I found this moth a few weeks back in my garage. It was about 10 cm long and just sat there at the top of the wall close to the ceiling.
It is beautiful, but still I prefer it outside. It wasn’t there the next day, so I’m happy I took the photo rightaway.
I was quite busy last Saturday, out and about for almost 12 hours.
First, there was the yoiyoiyama of Gion Matsuri’s Ato Parade, and once again, I volunteered at the Ofunehoko. They adapt shift lengths every year to try and make it as easy as possible on the volunteers who have to stand there in the heat. This time, I chose the exceptionally short afternoon shift from 2 to 4:30 because I had plans for later.
It wasn’t as hot as I thought it would be, in fact, this year feels less humid overall. Of course, this may also be because I stay on my mountain most of the days. Some friends came by to cheer me on (and buy chimaki), so the shift was over very quickly. And, for the first time, they also had an English pamphlet for people who entered the Ofunehoko, and I was in charge as the “English-speaking lead” of the shift.
Anyway, a friend picked me up at the very end, and we looked at a few more of the yamaboko. We caught several just at the time they were playing the Gion bayashi music – rhythms with flutes, gongs, and drums that are unique to every hoko of Gion Matsuri. It was fun.
And then we made our way to the Bati-Holic Kimono Rock Party. It was a one-man-show, a concert with just Bati-Holic this time, and it had been sold out weeks prior. They are always very energizing, and it was nice to see them play in front of a house full of fans. Some people I recognized from earlier concerts, and I made a few new connections, which is always nice.
About the goodies mentioned in the title: All volunteers at the Ofunehoko get one chimaki for free, it’s a protective charm that you put up at the entrance of your house. The reason I chose this particular shift was that I had to wear a yukata – and as the name suggests, the “Kimono Rock Party” was all about kimono/yukata, and people dressed in such got a tenugui towel as a special gift.
I’m not sure why it had to be pink (rock band and all), but Pumpkin seems to approve regardless.
The other day, I opened my shoe cabinet to get my rain boots. And what do I see – green mould everywhere. I got quite the shock when I found it on all my leather shoes. Great. But even more so: I found mould inside a kitchen cabinet. The rest of the day was filled with an unexpected emergency cleaning with lots of vinegar.
In all my years in Japan, that’s the first time that has happened to me. Generally, it’s not unheard of, especially during the humid summer months, but so far, at least in the old apartment, plastic-wrapped toast and some fruit I left outside were the only things to get mouldy.
The problem seems to be that there is not enough air circulation downstairs, even though it’s several degrees cooler than upstairs. At night, I keep the kitchen closed because I don’t want Pumpkin to jump up the gas stove and turn it on accidentally. The front door doesn’t have a fly screen, and since Pumpkin isn’t allowed outside (except for his morning excursions into the garden on a leash), it needs to stay closed at all times as well. And although my office window is open all day at the moment, it’s obviously not sufficient to get fresh air into the genkan.
The genkan seems to be quite humid to begin with, and I’m not sure why. Especially on rainy days, the floor is moist; it seems as if the moisture is coming up from the ground underneath it, probably because of insufficient waterproofing. Fixing this will probably involve digging up the whole entrance area, so it’s out of budget at the moment.
For the time being, I’ll probably have to buy dehumidifiers for the shoe cabinets at least: little boxes with salts inside that turn to jelly as they absorb moisture. I hope these are not just available in Hong Kong.
Today, I had the follow-up of my hospital visit from two weeks ago. And, to spare you the suspense: everything turned out just fine. There are no cancer markers, and I don’t even need regular follow-ups besides what’s considered normal at my age. Phew.
This time, I’m happy to relate that I had an appointment and only needed to wait for 30 minutes, which is perfectly within the range of “normal”.
I also noticed the last few times I visited Kyoto University Hospital that they must have changed their payment processing. It now only takes a couple of minutes before the notification of the amount you have to pay is coming. I wrote about a standard hospital visit as an outpatient many years ago, and besides getting streamlined here and there, it hasn’t changed much. A description of what is going on as an inpatient will have to wait. Not that I’m eager to experience that, mind you…
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.
As an Austrian, I am very much into coffee culture, and I don’t even drink coffee! The great thing about Austrian “Kaffeehäuser”, in particular those in Vienna, is that you can order a glass of water, grab one of the newspapers offered there for free and stay for hours without anyone bothering you further. While you can choose from dozens of different coffees, sweets, and often even small meals, the “consume or leave” attitude is considered rude.
I’m glad that Japan has embraced this idea of coffee culture. While it is uncommon to stay after dinner at a restaurant, and some of the fanciest bars allow you only an hour or two to get wasted, in a good café, they leave you alone.
I made a list of my favourite cafés for a coffee, ahem, a work break, before I moved. Sadly, the Mo-an on top of Yoshida hill has new owners who decided to go the lunch-only-with-reservation option. It’s all quite complicated now, and I haven’t been there since.
On the other hand, I have discovered the Very Berry Cafe on Kitashirakawa. It’s all about American food in a space that is reminiscent of Hawaii. I haven’t tried their lunch or dinner yet, but their smoothies and milkshakes – all in “American size” – are to die for. They also make 3D cakes for birthdays and have cookies and cakes for take out. A great place to meet friends, if not quiet enough to work.
However, my number one is still the café in the Ogaki bookshop. I go there regularly to write, and most other patrons do some work there too. There are students with thick textbooks doing their homework. People of all ages study languages, mostly English but even Chinese. Graphic artists create manga or anime on fancy tablets. And of course, people are just coming in with their latest purchase and start reading over a cup of coffee.
I go there so often that not only the staff knows me by now (and most of them are part-time students), but in turn I also recognize some of the other regulars. One of my former neighbours comes in the afternoon for a coffee and a newspaper read. The blind man and his grandson (I guess) who come here for lunch. The old man who is bent over almost double, so he walks very slowly, but his eyes light up when he takes out his brand-new books, which he caresses like a true lover. The boy who twirls his hair while he stares at his phone. Everything is relaxed and quiet, and you can stay as long as you like, even if you nurse your one cup of coffee and the glass of water it comes with, for hours.
It’s just like café culture in Austria, where a good “Kaffeehaus” can be your home away from home. This is what I feel when I go to a café or kissaten, as they are called here, in Japan. Isn’t it wonderful!
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.
The other day, I had to go to my quarterly thyroid checkup. While there, I told my doctor about some irregular periods I have been experiencing recently, and he persuaded me to go over to gynaecology right away and have it looked at.
After waiting for five hours (sure, I didn’t have an appointment, but that is excessive) I was told that there was a thickening – a cyst – in a small part of my endometrium (aka uterine lining). A sample was taken, and the biopsy results will be ready in 2 weeks.
It’s most likely benign. The gynaecologist says so. My other doctor says so. After consulting Wikipedia, I think so, too. Yet, I’m suitably worried. Well, if push comes to shove, and I do need an operation, I can tell you all about the in-patient care at Kyoto University Hospital…
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…
Pumpkin could sleep in all these places. But where does he sleep?
On my fleece jacket.
Cats, eh?