… kind of. The beginning of last week was so cold, I put on a thick sweater again. And Pumpkin slept in my bed – under the covers – for two days straight. So far, we haven’t had really hot and sunny days, at least not several in a row. It was overcast quite often, even when it wasn’t raining.
But this week, summer is speeding up. It’s actually starting to get humid, and for the rest of the week, temperatures in the low 30s are forecast. We’ll see. I’m curious if and how I will be able to sleep. My roof seems to be not insulated at all, and although I leave the windows open now, it can still get quite hot upstairs in my bedroom. I wonder how bad it will get in August. And how Pumpkin will deal with the heat and humidity. For now, he has found an elevated spot on some moving boxes (yeah, I know… go on, judge me) and sleeps there during the day. In the night, I often find him in his kitty bed that I place at the head of my own futon.
One thing I find quite interesting is that the sunlight, just before sunset, is now reaching into my office, which is on the north side of the house. At the moment, it’s just for a few minutes every day, but the light gives a beautiful orange tint to my white rooms. I didn’t catch it today, but I’ll try to take a photo and share it with you here soon.
When I wrote about the Dokkodo the other Sunday, I found out that I never wrote about famous samurai and ronin, Miyamoto Musashi. Well, here it goes!
Born in 1584 in the middle of the Sengoku period, young Musashi learnt fighting from his father, a lower-class samurai. Although he would go on to become Japan’s greatest swordsman, it is very hard to separate the facts of his life from the legends that were woven around him already during his lifetime.
It is true that he fought – and won – his very first duel at the age of 13, and it is said that 3 years later, in 1600, he fought in the Battle of Sekigahara which helped establish the Tokugawa Shogunate. The experience set him to wander around the country to study swordsmanship and to challenge fighters of various styles.
In 1604, Musashi arrived in Kyoto and challenged the local Yoshioka clan, one of the top schools of swordsmanship at the time. He fought with them three times, the best-known is the final fight at the pine at Ichijo street. A descendant of that very pine still marks the spot where Musashi wiped out the whole clan and effectively put an end to the school. Further up from the pine lies Hachidaira Shrine with a nice statue of Musashi, and all the way up the mountain, at Tanukidani Fudoin-san Temple, is a waterfall, where it is said that Musashi has performed misogi, ritual ablutions, before the fight.
In 1612, at the age of 28, when he was at the height of his powers, Musashi defeated the equally famous swordsman Sasaki Kojiro in a well-publicised fight on a beach and from there went on to win 61 duels in total, more than any other swordsman in Japanese history.
But Musashi was more than just an excellent fighter. He took great care to cultivate other Japanese arts like calligraphy and ink painting, and he became an early adept of the new style of tea ceremony developed by Sen-no-Rikyu.
While some of his works survive, this part of his life remains mostly in the dark. He is said to have met illustrious figures like spiritual leader Takuan Soho, renowned artist Hon’ami Koetsu and famous courtesan Yoshino Tayu, but little proof survived. It is also said that he fathered a son, possibly with a courtesan, but there is no proof of that either. What is known is that he has adopted several sons, who became swordsmen in their own right.
In his later life, Musashi established the Niten-Ichiryu school of swordsmanship, which is famous for its use of two swords, and which still exists to this day.
Just a few days before his death in 1645, at the age of 61, Musashi handed his favourite student the “Book of Five Rings” on martial arts and the “Dokkōdō”, 21 precepts expressing his views on life in general. Both keep inspiring readers from all over the world to this day, and they have established Musashi’s name as thinker and philosopher.
I already talked about the great book by Eiji Yoshikawa, who weaves a story out of legend and fact that leads up to Musashi’s duel with Kojiro Sasaki. I can still recommend it if you want to delve a bit further into Musashi’s life (and have a bit of fun while doing so).
Last September, the true crime anthology “Crimes of Passion, Obsession & Revenge” came out with an article of mine about the notorious case of Sada Abe. I mentioned it before on the blog. Recently, a friend of mine from Tokyo expressed interest in the book, so I sent her a link to it on amazon Japan. So far, so uninteresting. But on that amazon page, besides the usual blurbs and reviews, there are also short excerpts of two stories. One of them is mine.
I had no idea! I guess the publisher chose to do this as a way to drum up interest – after all, the crime I wrote about took place in Tokyo. But it is also included on a few other amazon pages in different countries, even if they have their own notorious case in the book… I have to say, I’m pretty excited about this!
Anyway, in case you haven’t bought the book yet, I highly recommend it. Especially the “Revenge of the Nagpur Women” case moved me. And if you did buy the book already – thank you very much – there’s another one in the pipeline with another article of mine., this time about an Austrian case. It will be out in September, and no worries, I’ll tell you more about it when the time comes.
As mentioned, I went to see this year’s Takigi Noh, a two-hour-long Noh/Kyogen performance on an outdoor stage set up at Heian shrine. The surroundings with vermilion buildings reminiscent of Kyoto’s Imperial Palace lend a special ambience when stacks of fire and paper lanterns are lit just before dusk to light the stage. After all, Takigi Noh means “outdoor fire-lit Noh”.
The Takigi Noh at Heian Shrine was first staged at the end of May 1950. From 1955 on, the dates were fixed to June 1 and 2. On these two days, 8 plays are shown, two of them are kyogen. Japan’s top actors are invited each year to make this event truly special. However, this is not the only firelight Noh performance, merely the biggest. In Kyoto, Shiramine shrine has a pretty famous one too, and many other shrines show Noh plays at special festivals.
In fact, Takigi Noh has its roots more than 1000 years ago, at Kofukuji temple in Nara, where religious ceremonies called Shunigatsu-e were held in the 2nd month of the year. At that time, Takigi-sarugaku performances took place, early precursors of what later developed into the Takigi Noh theatre of today. Takigi Noh reached the peak of its popularity in the Edo period, fell out of favour after the Meiji Restoration, and was revived again after WWII.
Heian Jingu’s Takigi Noh features 8 plays, and often, there is a common theme that runs through one day. For example, the plays I have seen all had the overarching theme of “heavenly intervention”. It’s not just the atmosphere that makes this Takigi Noh special. The plays are condensed to their most visually exciting parts. Written synopses of all plays are available – even in English – and if you miss getting a leaflet at the entrance, the plays are introduced by two kyogen players who manage to weave in a commentary of current events. Finally, the speech that is given after the fire lighting ceremony is translated into English, something I was especially grateful for.
Unfortunately, taking pictures during the performance was not allowed, that’s why you’re just getting this year’s poster as illustration… Anyway, overall, I had a great evening, and I’m really considering making this a regular occurrence.
Big news: Kyoto is broke. Kyoto city makes a lot of money from tourism – be it hotels, restaurants, souvenir shops etc. – and after 2 years of COVID-19, this doesn’t come as a big surprise. Foreign travellers are still standing at closed borders, and although domestic travel has picked up lately, it cannot fully compensate for the loss.
However, there are other reasons at play here as well. With very few exceptions – Nintendo and Kyocera come to mind – Kyoto isn’t the seat of big companies whose taxes from profits or employees could help with the city’s finances. These companies are all in Osaka, if they are located in Kansai at all. Instead, Kyoto’s business landscape is dominated by small to medium-sized businesses, that often have a long history and have been in the hands of the same family for generations.
And then there are the shrines and temples. Thousands of them, literally. Places like Fushimi Inari, Kiyomizudera and Higashi/Nishi Honganji not only draw countless tourists each year. They are also the headquarters of a specific deity worship (Inari is the god of wealth) or of a Buddhist sect (Jodo-Shinshu), respectively. Sounds like a good source of revenue for the city? Technically, yes, if they weren’t all tax-exempt…
Of course, there is not much the Kyoto city government can do about that. I firmly believe that this image of the town with its queer wooden shops and ancient temples helps attract visitors, especially from abroad. However, it seems that the city also has a habit of spending tax money like it’s going out of fashion. And when you hear that the city hall is currently being renovated and upgraded with stained-glass windows and damask wall coverings… Well, my sympathy levels are dropping, and I do see Kyoto’s mayor in a new light now, even though the spending spree dates back to before his terms.
Good to know that the city is already doing their best to remedy the situation. Day tickets for public transport have become more expensive, and my employee’s taxes for this year were raised by 10%. Also, as a matter of course, subsidies for the poor or elderly have been reduced. I just hope that Kyoto will find a way to curb their excessive spending too…
Just a quick heads up that I’m busy today, so no long post…
Tomorrow, I will go to Takigi Noh. That’s an annual event at Heian Shrine, where Noh is performed on an outdoors stage lit by torches (only?) I was invited already back in 2018 but couldn’t go, so I’m really excited that it’s finally happening.
I will report later whether it was worth all the money.
Koji Hatanaka has just started school. He has many friends in Komori, his village, and he even wins the governor’s prize as the top student of his class. Still, his future is less than bright because all the people from Komori are eta or burakumin, outcasts from Japan’s strict class hierarchy for generations. Once Koji understands what that means, he is determined to prove all of those wrong who call him dirty and a good for nothing. But this may mean to leave Komori behind, like his older brother did, and even in the big cities, escape from his background is not certain.
The book is set in the early 20th century, when discrimination against the burakumin was officially outlawed after centuries. However, old habits die hard, especially in the countryside. We follow Koji through his time at primary school as he becomes more and more aware of the daily injustices he and his fellow villagers have to endure. It is heartbreaking to read about his struggles, even more so when you realize that the story is all too close to reality.
Sue Sumii was born 1902 in Nara Prefecture. She was an advocate for the burakumin and devoted her entire life to breaking down barriers for them. The River With No Bridge is her best known work with that goal; however, of the 7 volumes, written over 30 years, only the first has so far been translated into English. Sumii died in 1997.
If you want to learn more about a part of Japanese society and history that is decidedly not talked about, get this book from amazon.
One of the many designated places of scenic beauty in Kyoto is the garden of Murin-an near Nanzen-ji temple. Built in 1894-96, the villa with its garden give us a glimpse into upper-class lifestyle of the Meiji era. Murin-an is one among many garden villas in Okazaki, but the only one that is open throughout the year, and yet, it is mostly overlooked by tourists visiting the area.
The name Murin-an means No Neighbor Hermitage, and when it was built in the mid-Meiji period, this was largely true. Of course, there was Nanzen-ji to the east of it, but many of the daimyo’s villas that stood there before the Meiji Restoration had been abandoned or demolished by that time. With the opening of the Lake Biwa Canal in 1890, the area was redeveloped, however, landmarks like the Kyoto City Zoo (1903), the Prefectural Library (1909) and the Municipal Museum of Art (1928) shaped Okazaki then and to this day.
Anyway, back to Murin-an. It was built for and partially designed by Prince Aritomo Yamagata, a top politician and twice prime minister of the Meiji and Taisho eras. He was born in today’s Yamaguchi Prefecture and wanted to recreate the rural landscape of his home in Kyoto. While he had a knack for garden design and made some very unusual choices for Murin-an, he hired one of the top garden designers of his age to shape his vision: Jihei Ogawa VII.
Jihei Ogawa was born in 1860 and became the head of the Ogawa family – garden designers for generations – at the age of 19. Some 15 years later, he was already famous. He would create gardens for a number of villas in the Nanzen-ji area, as well as the Heian shrine gardens and Maruyama Park. But because of Yamagata’s influence, Murin-an became a very special work.
First, the most unusual feature of Murin-an is its flowing stream that adds a certain liveliness where typical Japanese gardens prefer the quietude of a pond. The water springs from a large waterfall at the back and crosses the whole garden before being piped underneath the street to the neighbor’s property.
The second focal point of Murin-an is the large expanse of grass at the center of the garden. Or rather: Yamagata wanted it to be grass, but Kyoto’s ubiquitous moss eventually overpowered the grass. In any case, the center of the garden is rather empty and gives the illusion of a seemingly endless space.
This illusion is only underscored by the borrowed landscape of the Higashiyama mountains that visually close the garden at its eastern side. Although the surrounding trees cannot shut out the noise of the adjacent street, they are meticulously trimmed so that none of the surrounding buildings can be seen from the best viewing spot – the main house.
The main building of Murin-an is a beautiful traditional Japanese house. Its two largest rooms have tatami and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that allow for a full view of the garden, even more so in summer, when they are entirely removed. There is another large room on the second floor, but it is not always accessible, and the view is somewhat impeded by the boughs of a large tree.
Of course, a Japanese garden is not complete without a tea house. The one at Murin-an is a replica of a famous tea house that the tea master Furuta Oribe is said to have favoured. Occasionally, special tea ceremonies are held in the tea house, but in general, it is not accessible to the public.
Prince Yamagata was for a time educated in Europe, and to follow current fashion, he also had a Western-style house built at Murin-an. The second floor shows an interesting mix of Japanese wall paintings and Western upholstery and even has central heating. This room saw one of the most decisive events of Japan’s history: In April 1903, Japan’s prime and foreign ministers met with Yamagata and Ito Hirobumi, another elder statesman, to discuss the deteriorating relationship with Russia. Although the details are unknown, this “Murin-an Conference” set the scene for the Russo-Japanese War that began in 1904. While the second floor room has been preserved in the state of that date, the first floor gives an overview of the garden and its current management.
But the main attraction of Murin-an remains the garden with its many small details. Follow the paths all the way up to the waterfall. Look for the large round stepping stones that are said to provide the best views. Read the inscription on the memorial of the Meiji Emperor presenting Yamagate with two trees for his garden (and see if you can find where they once stood). And marvel at the enormous rock that Yamagata secured for the garden, some 300 years after Toyotomi Hideyoshi had attempted the same – and failed. But above all, take some time to relax and enjoy Murin-an as a peaceful retreat from the busy world outside.
Note that thanks to Corona, a visit to Murin-an currently requires a reservation at least one day in advance. See the Murin-an homepage: https://murin-an.jp/en/
Pumpkin and I have lived together now for 5 months, and we got to know each other better during this time.
His favourite pastime is to sit at the window in my office and look outside, growling at the neighbors and passersby. But when they notice him and look at him, he runs away immediately. That’s why I like to diss my dear kitty as “my hero”, but in fact, he is so much braver than I gave him credit for.
Last month, we went to the vet. With 12 years of age, Pumpkin already counts as a senior, so regular checkups are a must. (Spoiler: he’s healthy – even healthier than I am.) So, my friend came by with her car and pet carrier to bring us to our appointment.
When Pumpkin saw the carrier, he went berserk. He screamed on top of his lungs, clawed his way out of my grip and tried to hide. He kept crying of sheer panic throughout the (blissfully short) car ride.
Interestingly, he calmed down at the vet, and during the exam not a single tone came from him, not even when the vet took a bloodsample. On the contrary, released from the carrier, Pumpkin’s curious nature came out too, and he looked around the vet’s office with great interest. Even the vet remarked that he was an unusually calm and friendly cat. On the way home he was fairly relaxed again and only small “let me out” cries could be heard from the carrier.
So, why did he get so upset in the first place? Well, the last few rides in a carrier ended up with him being abandoned in a new home, twice within 3 months, before he came to live with me. That’s why my friend and I assume that he was afraid it would happen again, that he had to start all over with yet another person or family. We think that his cries meant something like “No, no, don’t do this to me, not again!”
No worries, sweetie kitty, you are mine now! And I think he understands that. He is more affectionate than ever (although he will never become a lap cat), purrs more often and allows me to touch his belly and paws. And he is now sleeping in my bed all afternoon, happily ignoring all the cat beds everywhere else in the house. Cats, eh?
