Japan: Little Things I’ll Miss and Big Things I’ll Keep

This is the last posting I will write from Japan.  As I walked around Tokyo today , I noticed a department store display for Valentine’s Day, one of the first holidays I experienced in Nagasaki almost a year ago.  The seasons have come full circle.  As I think back on this year, I wanted to share some of the little things I discovered in Japan that I won’t find in the US, and some of the bigger things – the memories – I will keep with me. 

The Little Things I’ll Miss

Yuzu, to be grated over tofu

Yuba

The foods that are uniquely Japanese:  yuzu, a wonderful orange/lemon citrus available in winter.  It’s used to season fish, make a soothing yuzu honey tea, and a luscious liqueur.  There’s yuba, the smooth skim of heated soymilk, a Kyoto specialty.  There are other foods, too:  the small Kyushu oranges you eat whole: the little barnacle-like shellfish we ate in Shikoku fresh from the sea, the acorn squash shaped pumpkin, and the subtle taste of grated mountain potato over rice with a bit of soy.

Onsens.  Actually, onsens and ofurus, the Japanese baths, are a big thing I’ll miss.  There is nothing like coming home after work or touring all day to wash the dust of the day off your body then soak in a tub of clean, hot water for as long as you want.  And chatting with another in a hot spring or pool, especially outdoors, is just wonderful.  There is nothing like it in the US – washing yourself in a tub and then sitting in the cooling (and dirty) water doesn't come close. 

Vending machines that are ubiquitous, where you can buy water, tea, and other mostly noncarbonated drinks.  What’s really great is that there are more hot drinks in the winter and cold in the summer.  The machine pictured here even is decorated to blend in with the scenery.

Convenience stores, also ubiquitous: the Lawsons, Family Marts, 7 Elevens, Circle Ks, and Sunkus (“Thanks”) that provide much of what you need daily, including snacks and freshly made sandwiches, salads, and other foods that are actually healthy.

People queuing patiently for a coming train, subway or bus.  No one pushes, people move at a steady pace, everyone gets on, and the train runs on time. 

The tweeting sound signaling it’s OK to cross the street. It may not be the most musical of tunes, but it’s a friendly reminder and good for those with poor eyesight.  The best is that the tune is different depending on which direction you can cross.

Electricity conservation.  The Japanese are traditionally frugal, but certainly more since the 2011 disaster.  Houses are heated by room, and generally the halls and bathrooms are not.  People turn on the heat or air conditioning when they enter a room, and turn if off when they leave.  They grow plants outside office windows to provide shade in the summer.  The result:  electricity usage was down 10-15% in 2012 compared to 2010, the year before the earthquake.

The Big Things I’ll Keep With Me

The land:  the mountains, the sea, the rice fields.  I will always remember Kyoto’s layers of mountains rolling back into the sunset and the presence of water everywhere – the sea, the river running through town, the canals and rivulets feeding the fields.  The rice fields were an indication of how close Japan is to the land and growing things:  the fields were next to houses or within half an hour at most of any town, except perhaps for Tokyo and Osaka.

The rhythm of the seasons:  Japanese honor, celebrate, and delight in the seasons and the birth and death, growth and decay that each signifies.  It’s not just the delight you experience with the cherry blossoms, or the rich beauty of the maples in autumn.  Placemats, flowers, dishes, the hanging banners in front of shops, and more change with the seasons.

The Japanese aesthetic.  Whether pottery, calligraphy, cooking, or virtually any activity, each is an art.  It is a conversation, a dance that combines the energy of the artist with the essence of the material.  Every aspect is important in itself and each step is done with care, focused attention and skill.  The result is simple, elegant, balanced yet not symmetrical, beautiful to look at, taste, or experience.

The friends I've made.  Many of the people I met here are friends of friends of mine back home.  They were wonderful, welcoming people, eager to show me their part of Japan:  Shigeko showed me her weaving and invited me to join her poetry group to see the cherry blossoms.  Yuko and I went to sumo together and she invited me to stay with her over Christmas.   

Others whom I met on my own were wonderfully kind and helpful:  the innkeeper who took me to meet some of the potters in Arita on Kyushu, my Japanese teacher in Tokyo who invited me to spend a weekend with her family, or the young woman at the ryokan who introduced me to her ikebana teacher and her family.  Even the woman who sat next to me at a Noh performance, chatting away as if I understood everything she said, was interesting and enjoyable.  They made my stay very special.

The sense of wonder and discovery.  Someone once said  you can’t discover new lands until you lose sight of the shore.  For me this year, that has been literally true.   This journey has excited my curiosity and opened my eyes to new discoveries daily.  It has expanded my vision and helped me understand and respect different points of view and ways of living.  That sense of wonder and joy in discovery will stay with me wherever I go, whomever I meet.

Ise – Japan’s Most Sacred Shrine

I thought a fitting end to my journey in Japan – and a good beginning for my continuing journey in the US – would be to visit Japan’s most sacred shrine in Ise, about 3 ½ hours by train southwest of Tokyo.   It’s actually nearer Kyoto, but it took me a while to realize this was an important trip to make.

 

A small shrine in the trees at Ise

The Ise Grand Shrine (“Ise jingu”) is so important because it is both Shinto’s most sacred shrine and the shrine of the Imperial Family.   It is dedicated to the sun goddess, Amaterasu-oomikami, from whom the Imperial Family is directly descended, according to Shinto mythology.  Naiku, the Inner Shrine at Ise, is said to house the Sacred Mirror, one of three sacred objects Amaterasu gave her grandson, Ninigi (the others are kept in other shrines).  Ninigi, in turn, is believed to be the great-grandfather of Jimmu, who became Japan’s first emperor in 7^th century BC.   As a result, Ise’s high priest or priestess comes from the Imperial Family.

Crossing the bridge into the Ise shrine complex

Uji Bridge

A key feature of Ise is that its two main shrines – Naiku and Geku, dedicated to the god of agriculture and industry – and the Uji bridge are rebuilt every twenty years.  The rebuilding symbolizes the Shinto belief in death and renewal and the impermanence of all things.  By using traditional techniques and building to exact specifications, the shrines are always both new and old, fresh and original. The last rebuilding occurred in 1993, so this year will be the next, and 62^nd, renewal. (Yes, that’s 1,240 years.)

Ise is actually a complex of 125 shrines located in a 13,000-acre forest of cedar and cypress trees.  The trees are quite impressive – some are 3-4 feet in diameter and many stories tall.  My favorite was a tree whose bark was leather-smooth from the hands of people who had stroked it over the years.  You could almost feel the tree’s energy when you touched it.  

 

In entering the complex,  people pass under a simple wood torii to cross the Uji bridge, then under another torii before they purify themselves at a large covered pool.  They walk up wide gravel paths among the trees to the shrines, passing under a few other torii along the way.  The shrines themselves are simple and unadorned, made of cypress with steep thick thatched roofs. They reminded me of the simplicity and elegance I saw in the Emperor and Empress at last year’s memorial service for the 2011 earthquake disaster.  Their roofs, peaked with supports crossing and angling upward at each end, seemed reminiscent of samurai helmets.  Because they are so sacred, virtually all are closed to the public.

Naiku is at the top of a series of wide stone steps.  It is hidden behind a wooden fence, with only its roofs visible.  I followed the crowd there, behind a group of pink-shirted pilgrims, slowly and patiently moving forward.  Line by line, five or six came to a curtained opening in the wall, made a coin offering, bowed twice, clapped twice, prayed and bowed again before turning to leave. It was simple and moving.

Sumo!! A fascinating – and fun – sport to watch

I must admit I never thought I would get hooked on sumo, a quintessentially Japanese sport where two large fat men aim to push their opponent out of the ring or make him touch the ground.  But hooked I am – sumo is fascinating, full of ritual, skill, and strategy.  Besides, it’s just fun.

A match about to begin

A referee

So what is sumo?  Sumo is a form of wrestling that began hundreds if not thousands of years ago.  It has been associated with Shinto rites, was a ritual at the imperial court, and became a professional sport during the Edo period (1600’s).  Young men in their teens join one of many “stables” of sumo, where they are trained by the stable master.  They live in an environment of strict tradition that dictates what they can eat, wear, and other privileges according to their rank as a wrestler.  A sumo’s rank is determined by the number of matches he has won in each tournament and over time, not age or weight.  Some wrestlers are very heavy while others are not.  One, a Czech (yes, there are foreign sumo) looks like he weighs only 200 pounds, yet has been able to move into the higher divisions.  Regardless of their weight, sumo wrestlers are all very toned, flexible, and strong, strong enough to lift their opponent if need be.

The audience

The ring

There are six Grand Sumo tournaments annually, each 15 days in length and leading to the championship match. I went to see the second day of matches in this year’s first tournament at Tokyo’s Ryogoku Kokugikan, which has held tournaments for over 100 years.  I joined my friend Yuko to sit in a Matsu, one of several hundred four-mat “boxes” that angle up from and surround the sumo ring (“dohyo”).  The ring, defined by corded rice thatch with two lines in the middle, is on a raised square topped by a clay/sand mix.  Above is a roof like that of a Shinto shrine.   The matches themselves run from 8 am to 6 pm, working up from the most junior to the highest ranks.  As the day goes on, the arena fills up with people of all ages, including families with young children.  They either bring or pay to be served lunch, snacks, hot tea, beer or other drinks.  There’s always a buzz, with people yelling support for a favored sumo and during a good match.  When it is particularly good, the entire crowd is engaged, yelling encouragement.  (If you want to get a flavor of the event, watch YouTube, “Summer Grand Sumo Tournament Final Highlights, 2012”, which was held at the Ryogoku Kokugikan.)

Pomp and ceremony mark the beginning of the matches between players in the highest-ranking divisions, who like everyone else is divided in half, east and west. Twenty players from the west side enter the stadium, each wearing a decorated heavy silk “apron”.  Beginning with the person ranking lowest, each is announced and the sumo steps up to and walks around the ring, until all are standing there, facing the audience.  Then they turn around to face each other, clap their hands, raise and lower their aprons, raise their arms high then down, and march out.  Then the twenty east side players repeat the ritual

Right now, there are two grand champions, called “yokozuna”, one east and one west, who have achieved the highest rank possible.  Again in succession, each yokozuna comes out, dressed in an apron.  Symbolizing the link to Shinto, a white cord is wrapped around his waist, white paper fortunes hanging in front, and tied in the back with a large bow.  Standing at one end of the lines in the middle of the ring, the yokozuna goes through a solemn ritual:  he opens his arms up around and down to bring and hold his hands together, raises each leg high and stomps it down hard, squats then rises a bit and moves his feet forward slowly and smoothly to the end of the lines.  These movements may seem simple, but remember that each of these men weighs over 300 pounds, so seeing someone do this slowly and gracefully is quite impressive.  (For a good picture and explanation of this, go to YouTube, “Dezuiri 2012 – Yokozuna New Year Ring-Entering Ceremony, Meiji Shrine”.)

Throwing salt to purify the ring

As the match begins, each pair is announced and enters, dressed in their heavy silk belts {“mawashi”) that can cost upwards of 1 million yen (roughly $11,100). On coming into the ring, each claps his hands, raises each leg in succession and stomps it to the ground to drive out evil spirits.  In their corners, each is given a ladle of water to rinse out his mouth and white paper to dry his lips.  Then they enter the ring, stand across from each other, squat, clap and open their arms and hands wide to show they have no weapons.  Finally they return to their corners, lean over, stretch, etc., then pick up some salt and throw it into the ring for purification.

The stare

Ready to crouch

Once in the ring again, they come to their places behind the two lines in the middle of the ring, squat, and stare intently at each other, beginning or perhaps continuing what I call the “ritual of intimidation”.  For several times, up to as long as four minutes, they will stare at each other, then first one and then the other will get up, slap their mawashis, return to their corners, bend and move, slap themselves, stand up, throw some more salt into the ring, and squat again.  When one of the players dramatically arches backward in his corner or squats in the ring and bends forward low to the ground (the trademark of one yokozuna), the crowd will roar in delight.

Hakuho, a Yokozuna

Harumafuji, a Yokuzuna

At last the referee will signal that the match should begin, the sumos squat, crouch, and when each touches the ground with his fists, they leap up and charge at each other.  They will use a multitude of techniques learned over the years:  slap and push at each other, reach to grab the other’s mawashi to get a grip and leverage, seek to push the other out of the ring or try to do so by lifting him, or work to get the other off-balance so he drops and touches the ground.  It can all be over in a few seconds – sometimes when one men steps aside to let the other’s momentum take him out of the ring – or can last for as long as a minute or more.  The better the players and the more evenly matched, the longer and more exciting the match is.  For a thrilling (and long) match between Hakuho and Harumafuji, the two grand champions, go to YouTube and watch “Hakuho vs. Harumafuji Day 15 Sumo Aki Basho September 2012”. 

A high-ranked sumo on the street

Sumo is so fascinating to me because it's a dynamic balance of seeming contradictions, as is true in so much of Japan.  It’s a blend of deep history and ritual and yet is a modern sport.  Men who are clearly heavy demonstrate enormous strength, skill, and strategy.  It is awesome to see such large men who are obviously very toned and can move very quickly.  It’s a contact sport, but not violent, and I have often seen one sumo help the other get up after a match.  In some ways sumo is solemn, but it is also fun, and the crowd clearly loves it.  What’s not to like?!

Happy New Year!

Praying at Yasakusa New Year's eve day

Or as the Japanese say, “shinnen omedetou gozaimasu”.  New Year (“shougatsu”) is a big deal here.  Japan’s most important holiday is a huge 3-day celebration.  Thousands of Japanese travel to spend time with their families and pray at temples and shrines.  Many shops are closed for the week.  Here in Kyoto, the main streets are clogged with people, more than I’ve seen at any time I’ve been here.  It’s been a fascinating window into Japanese traditional culture and customs.

Preparations for the New Year begin in December with a number of “memorial services” at various temples around town.  Many of the services focus on vegetables, since Buddhists are vegetarian.  One cold and misty day, I joined others at a memorial service for pumpkins (similar in shape to acorn squash), where we offered our prayers and ate delicious pumpkin served in hot broth to ward off summer illness.  Another service, for daikon, offered the ubiquitous tasty Japanese white radish to dispel misfortune.

The service I liked best, though, was for needles at Horin-ji Temple (above).  People who wanted to improve their sewing skills placed their old needles in an offering box as they entered the temple.  The building was packed:  everyone sat on the floor, listening to the music of traditional instruments and the chanting of monks.  At one point, four women in traditional costume got up and danced around slowly.  Then a monk signaled to the crowd that it was time to present a needle offering.  From a stack of long knitting-needle sized needles threaded with a bit of colored yarn, we each took one and put it into a whitish block of something like paraffin, said a brief prayer and turned to leave. 

There are special decorations for New Year’s, too.  The day after Christmas, the street decorations changed from bells with blue lights to gold and black circles around green pine boughs with a bit of red and white flowers.   At my last ikebana lesson, we made a traditional New Year’s arrangement of pine boughs tied with a gold and silver bow, which I later saw gracing the temples I visited.  Temples and shrines had long swags of rope made from rice thatch, often with white paper decorations (symbolizing one’s fortune, I think), at temple and shrine entrances.  In accordance with custom, I made a rice thatch rope to hang in my apartment.  Small shops and homes had little decorations, too, often of rice thatch rope and an orange.

Decoration at Heian shrine

Decoration ovre a home's entrance

Japanese thoroughly clean their homes and businesses to put a fitting end to this year and welcome the next one. The woodworker at my street corner had stacks of scrap wood and bags of debris waiting to be taken away.  The nearby calligraphy store had a brand new felt pad on its counter.  The owner was carefully taking bottles of ink off the shelves, dusting them, and putting everything back in neat rows.  People also join monks in cleaning the temples and statues of Buddha.  I like this tradition and decided to join in by thoroughly cleaning my little apartment. 

Yasuka Shrine, New Year's Eve day

My handiwork

On New Year’s Eve, I learned that people traditionally eat soba (long noodles to symbolize long life).  They also go to a Buddhist temple where at midnight the temple’s bell is rung by hand 108 times, once for each of the 108 human sins.  Buddhists believe the bell ringing rids people of their sins from the previous year.  To give you a sense of the strength of this tradition, the bell at Kyoto's Chionin Temple (which weighs 67 tons and takes several people to manage the wooden post used to hit it) has been rung each New Year’s for the last 1400 years.  After the bell ringing, the gathered multitude slowly moves forward to the front of the temple, prays, and departs.

New Years memento

Making mochi

Another New Year's tradition is making mochi, boiled sticky rice that is pounded to a paste and then formed into dumpling-size balls of candy.  Huge mochi balls, topped by an orange, are part of the traditional New Year’s decorations.  People mail New Year’s postcards (like our Christmas cards) that, with the aid of people hired for the purpose, the Post Office guarantees will arrive on January 1.  I can’t imagine the US Post Office managing that.

There are sales, too, but with an added twist.  Many of the stores I passed featured “good luck bags”, essentially a grab bag of goodies that you buy for a price considerably below the value of what’s inside.  Generally they are large paper bags, but my favorite clothing/textile store here had clear plastic bags so you could see the color of the top and scarves you could buy.  They were beautiful things and a great value!

People celebrate the "first" of everything they do after New Year's, beginning with watching the first sunrise of the year.  NHK showed the first sunrise over Mount Fuji.  On January third, the last official day of the holiday, I went to Yasaka shrine to stand with the packed crowd to watch “Karuta Hajime”, the first Karuta card game played in the New Year.  About two dozen women, girls and boys in colorful traditional costumes were seated in pairs on the stage, putting them at the crowd’s eye level.  In front of each person were 10-15 cards, each with the last two lines of a tanka, or traditional Japanese poem.   

The moderator read the first three lines of a tanka and you  tried to be the first to hit the card with the appropriate last two lines from your or your opponent’s cards.  If you succeeded, you took the card away; if it was from your opponent, you gave him/her one of your cards. The goal was to eliminate all the cards in front of you.  (All of this is explained in Wikipedia and YouTube if you want to understand more.)   As the game was being played, big video cameras were whirling, people were clicking their cameras extended high overhead, and the rest of us stretched up and peered around others to try to see what was going on.  It was all quite fascinating.