So said my colleague at the University yesterday. I didn’t understand. To me, Kyoto is the destination of choice for those wishing to see Japan through the prism of history. In the summer it is positively swarming with tourists from all corners of the world. A village?
My colleague explained that he himself was born in Osaka and moved to Kyoto as a young boy during the war. Still, he feels sometimes that he doesn’t belong. People have lived here for generations. They know who’s who. They know each other’s families. They know who is a stranger. The one who moved here from elsewhere is a stranger. This, for him, is village mentality.
HOMELESSNESS
I have not been writing thus far about what is in Japanese cities a very evident problem: that of homelessness. Last year, when I was in Nagoya, I asked my hosts about this issue. I got two separate answers. The students told me that it was a national scandal – that not enough was being done, that many people lost their livelihood as a result of the economic downturn. My colleague, on the other hand, suggested that many (though not all) of those living on the streets choose the lifestyle for themselves. I've heard this debate before! The homeless in every city of Japan share the following: many inhabit miniscule hut-like structures made out of old boards, mats, cardboard and blue sheets of plastic. They construct these under viaducts, oftentimes by rivers. Apparently the city cannot forcibly remove them, as they are in some way settling into public spaces. I don’t really understand the legal complexities here – but there does seem to be a law protecting their right to park wherever they indeed are parking.
How unfortunate that I have become accustomed to seeing these blue huts now in Japan! I expect them as part of the Japanese landscape. In a city like Kyoto, I pass them often because I am always cutting a path by the river and every overhead bridge has a series of homeless huts below. It is impossible, therefore, not to mention them in the blog, because they are so much a part of my everyday walk through this city.
What amazes me, though, is how intricate these set-ups can be: many have makeshift cooking places with pots and pans; some have unique collections. Today I saw one with umbrellas hung over a fence --- dozens of them. Yesterday I saw a collection of computer screens. Computer screens??
Mostly men inhabit the blue boxes, though occasionally I will also see a woman (a spouse maybe?). Today I passed a hut that had a dog on a leash tied to one of the corner posts. The inhabitants were sitting in folding chairs outside, as if at a campsite. Except that it was their box “home.”
I have included a photo of a fairly typical set-up under one of the Kyoto bridges.
ANOTHER KIND OF VILLAGE
Today (Saturday), early in the morning, I took a tiny little train to Kurama, a small (really small) village on the outskirts of Kyoto. My colleague, knowing that I like walking so much, had recommended it as a place for great hiking, wonderful scenery, with a few hillside shrines thrown in to make it culturally worthwhile.
The thing about mountain or hillside shrines is that they require climbing up the hill or mountain to get to them. Having walked on an average some 4 hours per day here, I thought this was not an issue. I’ve done the Japanese Alps, for Pete’s sake! But to take a path straight up, for a handful of kilometers... Oh, the scenery is breathtaking alright. I am posting a photo to give a sense of it. At the base, the wild irises are extravagant. As the path gets steeper, cedars and bamboo trees commingle without effort. But as I climb the steep incline, my feet are just not making enough effort to raise themselves to the next step, and the next, and the next. I start tripping over stupid things, like perhaps air.
I know I’ve had a real workout when I become fodder for Asian flies and insects that can’t wait to taste last night’s dinner, some of which has, by now, made its way up to the surface of my skin.
It is a beastly hike up.
But the forest is nearly empty and it does offer magnificent surprises. There are the exposed cedar roots. And, of course, the old shrines with their drinking troughs and their dangling cords to call forth the gods.
I have to say that the other day’s post on tourists and clothes especially holds true for this day: the Japanese (at most levels of the socio-economic strata) are meticulous dressers. How else would you explain the men who wore slacks and ties and blazers for this hike? I came across at least two. I tell you, next to them, I am from frump-dom.
The village at the base of the ‘mountain’ seemed to be a good base to return to. Except the path I had taken up the mountain actually ended in the next village over. I could have retraced my steps, but I really didn’t know if the trembling muscles in my legs were up for it. Maybe all those Japanese signs I passed along the way gave warnings about not going forth unless you’ve twice ridden the Tour de France. They should have. In any event, I hugged the traffic road below to make it over to the base village.
Q: Do you eat anything at all during the day, or is it that you starve yourself so as to better enjoy dinner? A: Every afternoon I buy an apple from some small grocer. I pick the small shops because they will always happily wash fruit for me when I ask. Then today, for instance, by about 4, I also stopped at a coffee shop and had this, the anti-Atkins special (note green tea bread):
Q: How about after dinner – do you nibble in the way that you sometimes do back home?
A: Quit giving away dark secrets about my life. Sure, because I blog late at night, my appetite returns after a brief dinner pause. I have a nice little supply from the Japanese convenience stores of cashews and almonds (they are surprisingly cheap here), sesame seed balls, and for the sweet moment -- chocolate covered almonds or red bean sesame buns. Good stuff for midnight cravings.
ART AND NATURE THUS ALLIED GO TO MAKE A PRETTY (GEISHA MOMENT)…
In the afternoon I walked my shoes to shreds visiting other temples and shrines. I have to say that the Zen temples are the most soothing tourist attraction on earth. Even the mere act of taking off your shoes, to walk on socked feet across polished wooden floors, is extraordinarily revitalizing (especially after your feet have swelled unreasonably due to excessive mountain climbing). Once inside, you see airy rooms with beautifully ornamented screens, and always there is a Zen garden with an artful arrangement of gravel and stone islands.
In the last temple I visited (Shisen Do) I came across a couple, of sorts. Clearly a man was out with his Geisha for a little Saturday outing. Even here, on the temple grounds, the Geisha was elusive. She knew I was lurking with my camera and I doubt that she liked it. She appeared deeply enmeshed in her ‘conversation’ with her man. And she was good at it: she fed him soft-spoken questions constantly. He never had to entertain her – it was all her doing. Eventually the Geisha went out for a brief walk with her man on the temple grounds. I am certain I ruined that for them. Who could tolerate a stalker who pretends to be shooting trees but instead is discreetly (or not so discreetly) focusing the camera on the Geisha? There are times when hiding behind the ‘oblivious tourist’ shield serves one well.
A Post post scriptum
I think I have cracked the "owl, protector of the forest" puzzle (see post below on the Alpine town of Happo). Today I came across this little board. It implies that the owl is the Japanese version of Smokey the Bear, doesn't it? To the reader who wrote that the bag deserves a proper burial back home, I will admit that I can flip it around and show off its plain gray side in case I get too embarrassed by the owl cuteness. Besides, I saw a preschooler toting a very similar one the other day. Only it didn't have my wonderful owls -- it had some irrelevant goofy cartoon characters. But the style of the bag was identical. My owls would have fit right in at the local kindergarten.
