SUNDAY, MAY 9: I was given instruction this morning to search out flowers for the hotel room. Rain had been in the forecast and sure enough, it was raining hard. Nonetheless, am I going to settle for the hotel florist when there may be an open flower shop somewhere in the city? Of course not. The search begins.
An hour later I find one. They are in the midst of preparations for what will surely be a day of great chaos, given that this is Japan and a day to give presents and expectations center around flowers. It is early, they are not open yet, but a few coaxing nonsensical words gain me permission to enter and browse. They humor me as I pick through flower possibilities. Eventually they put together a bouquet of orchids and peonies. The care with which they work on this attests to the preoccupation they have in this country with flowers. In the hotel as well, when I ask for a vase, they bring several to my room to assess which will look better and then insist on a careful arranging of each stalk.
Thank you, and for the cards as well!
Oh-oh. Am I forgetting something? Like the need to finish this quickly and go upstairs to call someone in Berkeley? My mother by now will have told everyone in her senior home that she expects to hear from neither of her daughters. I am certain that stories about daughter inattentiveness figure prominently in her conversations. Sorry to disappoint, Mom, I'm about to call!
KAZUMI’S PLAN
I met Kazumi and her boyfriend (is that the correct term for a man who is 42?), Masaiko, on my first night in Kyoto, at a sushi bar (see post below). She is coming in to Kyoto today to take me around to places I am not likely to find on my own (Masaiko is working and will join us for dinner later).
I come down to the hotel lobby and she is there, along with two friends (Mieko and Eiko) from her ‘Cultural Center English class.’ The Japanese are forever studying English in an attempt to improve their speaking skills. Nevertheless, all three barely speak it at this point. I would say that the chances of my simple sentences being understood are at best 50 – 50. Of course, my Japanese skills remain at a level that, when rounded up, comes close to 0.
Kazumi has a plan for today and she is undaunted by the steady rain. She has brought along brochures, maps and booklets, meticulously marked with post-its. I tell her I will follow along and do whatever she suggests.
1. BOX LUNCHES: I associate the term ‘box lunch’ with something you eat on the run (although in Japan this would have to be SITTING DOWN). Obviously I am wrong. We walk to a place that is slow-paced and refined. Two men spend the entire time we are there arranging food for presentation. That is all they do – they bring it in from the kitchen and work to creatively place it in boxes that are then brought to us. I did not want to become too obsessed with my camera during this day (that’s true for the remaining pictures as well: my attention was too much on my hosts and the places we were visiting) and so these basic photos will have to suffice. The use of choice plates and containers is, of course, extremely important to the arrangements. I wont even begin to describe the food itself. Absolutely delicious. And about ten times as much (in quantity) as I would normally eat in the course of the day.
2. TOFUKU-JI: There are Zen temples and then there are Zen temples. There are gardens and then there are lush gardens. We travel by train to Tofuku-Ji, a temple outside of Kyoto that can be described as perhaps the ‘lushest’ of them all.
In part, it is the time of the year. In May, the juxtaposition of various shades of greens is especially pronounced and it serves the Japanese gardens well. A Japanese maple with its delicate pointy leaves looks stunning next to a fir with curved, darker blue-green branches.
And in the Zen creations, where pebbles are raked (with a bamboo pole) into a checkerboard design or into one with circles, the greens again come to play a role, both in the strategically placed bushes in the background and the mosses that figure into the template.
The rain has stopped and miraculously, it does not come back for the rest of the day. Incredible luck.
Kazumi’s leadership is crucial in getting us from one point to another. I am a mere puppy, following along, asking irritating questions, liking the role of the person without a plan, without any idea even as to where we are going and why. I am repeating the words ‘beautiful’ and ‘splendid’ over and over, but it is appropriate and true. (It is also dangerous to try to introduce a new word. At one point I commented on how polite the Japanese people are to each other. Polite? – ask my hosts. What’s that? They look through their dictionaries and say ‘aaaah, kind.” No, not kind, I say. Kind is different. But how do you explain the difference with a “see Spot run” vocabulary? A challenge.)
3. UJI: Several stops further on the train line we come to the town of Uji. Just as Hotaka is known for wasabi and Hoppa is all about soba, Uji has two claims to fame: the Byodoin Temple with its great Phoenix Hall,
…and green tea. Grown, served, consumed in every which way, sold in all imaginable incarnations of jellies, sweets, baked goods, creams and basically anything else that you might think could be improved with a splash of green color and the strong, almost bitter flavor of this uniquely Japanese product.
At a very old tea house we eat green tea deserts (green tea jelly, green tea ice cream, rice balls, and sweet red beans).
I am given presents – packages of the green tea to take back to Madison. My new friends are wonderfully kind to me. Note that I am, of course, the tallest among them (though not the oldest! We span the years from Kazumi’s 38 to Eiko’s 54).
4. KAWAMURA SUMO FOOD SHOP: In the early evening, back in Kyoto, Meiko and Eiko depart. Both are enthusiastically plotting their first trip to America. Suddenly learning English has a concrete purpose.
Kazumi and I meet Masaiko at a tiny tiny Sumo Food Shop for dinner.
I do not associate sumo wrestling with food, but indeed, Sumo cuisine has its own unique features. Masaiko is well known in this particular place and as we sit at the counter, the cooks and staff engage us in one long conversation that orbits around figuring out how to say something in English. I feel like I am eating at someone’s home (it is getting late and we are the only clients – not that there are many seating choices were more people to come); the atmosphere verges on being rambunctious as dish after dish comes to us from behind the counter.
Anything notable? The octopus tempura, the raw squid, the sea urchin, the Kyoto veggies, the spring bamboo noodles, oh, this is getting long.
Mostly I am so FULL of food. Just when I think I cannot, CANNOT eat any more, I see plates of rice in sea weed, and then, oh, here comes a boiling pot with Chinese cabbage, mushrooms, pieces of chicken (chicken! This is my first encounter with meat in Japan!), oh stop, I cannot! What? A shojiu drink after those mugs of beer? What’s a shojiu? A GIN AND TONIC?? You have got to be kidding. How can they take it in and not appear even phased by the voluminous nature of it all? It’s healthy, yes I know, it’s all very healthy, but THERE IS SO MUCH OF IT! [The Food Shop staff gather to watch me eat. I am a source of amusement to them, I'm certain of it.]
It becomes clear that this day is more than just about sights and dishes of food. The desire to show off one’s home, to share it with someone who is just passing through is palpable. Masaiko has made a CD for me from the Kabuki Theater where he was the sound manager (he will be traveling to UCLA, Berkeley, Michigan and Harvard the following year with this troupe; he is very excited – he has never traveled abroad before). He gives me a pack of photos as well, taken by him during the last show. The chef makes up dishes we never even request. The hostess gives me scrolls with sumo titles on them. Kazumi picks up endless post cards for me. They all want me to like it here and they work hard to make this happen. I never even see the bill for the huge meal. They will not accept anything from me. They only know how to give.
I wonder what it is like to work, as Kazumi works, teaching piano lessons in this compulsive nation. Her oldest student is 57. Her youngest is just two. Two? How can you study piano at the age of two? Kazumi says the little girl just sings and sings as she bangs away at the keyboard. Kazumi herself started at the late age of four. Her music friends have gone on to do great piano things – they are currently studying at Julliard and she plans on visiting them in NY next year. But she herself sustained a hand injury while at the university and so her performance days are over. Does she like teaching? Sometimes. Just sometimes. Does she think of doing something else? Of course not. This is her job.
Maseiko and Kazumi want to go out to dinner again tomorrow night. Yes, yes, okay, but really, we have to decrease the number of dishes. I cannot keep up. Karaoke afterwards? That’s intimidating! Kazumi sings jazz on the side. Maseiko is a sound manager. This will take Karaoke to a different level than listening to renditions of “I will survive” at Noah’s Ark as sung by two girls from a Girl Scout troupe. But I am game for anything. I will let them lead. They are so good at it.
All this from a chance encounter at a sushi bar.
