JAPAN

QUESTIONS AND COMMENTS

Not surprisingly, the little crispy critters in my last post generated some discussion. I had mentioned to one reader that it could have been worse: for one wild moment I worried that the dish was actually cockroaches rather than grasshoppers. The reader responded thus:

“[The grasshoppers] must actually taste good or people wouldn't keep eating them. Why do we dare to eat lobsters? I think cockroaches are bitter or bad tasting in some way. You never hear about people eating them. They live in filth, but grasshoppers just eat a lot of vegetation, so they are probably very close to the vegetable themselves.”

I wondered, therefore, if vegetarians (the ones that draw the line at meat-eating but will accept fish, etc) would contemplate eating grasshoppers?

Another reader asked if a picture of the half-tanned me is in the offering. Answer: NO!!!

I have had a few of my students taking ‘study breaks’ (the Family Law exam is in two days) with my weblog. I’m all for that (the study breaks I mean). And yes, you can consider fish as ‘brain food.’ Go ahead, take a sushi break as well.

CHILDREN’S DAY

Throughout the country I see wind socks (is that what they’re called?) flying, suspended over rivers and near shrines: colorful carp, blowing in all directions. Much of this is in celebration of the third and last of the Japanese Golden Week holidays: today (May 5) is Children’s Day.


Often, the very young children here eye me with complete suspicion and distrust: I look THAT different to them. Their parents will coax and prod them to smile or wave. Sometimes they comply, but often times they do not (consider the picture of the twin girls at a train station; since the parents were there, I asked for permission to photograph. The parents said yes, but this was the girls’ response-->)

As they get older, their admiration of things (and people) from across the ocean grows. They go out of their way to demonstrate friendliness and curiosity, often wanting to practice their English, or wanting me to say something about my travels to Japan. A simple complement about their town will send them into paroxysms of delight.


Children. We, the travelers, are so drawn to them! Their faces look so lovely, genuine, even when touched by economic disparity, they are still beautiful. It is wonderful to have the entire nation take a day off to celebrate their worth.


MOVING ON

Nagano’s flowers recede as I take my various combinations of trains to my next stop, the longest of the trip – in Kyoto.

JAPAN

THE HEAVENS OPEN UP

The notable thing about today (Tuesday) is that it is supposed to rain. For days now it has been in the forecast. Don’t do anything grand on Tuesday, the Tourist information Center tells me, it is going to rain. The Japan Times is in agreement. Across Japan, Tuesday = rain.

But this morning I look out the window and see this:


It’s not that I proceed to disbelieve the weather people, it’s that I think that perhaps the rain will be an on again, off again kind of thing.

Besides, it is my last day in Nagano. Tomorrow, official holiday time comes to an end and, along with the rest of Japan, I will resume my work-related activities, sprinkled for me with some down time here and there. But today is free completely and so I want to return to the mountains.

The Tourist Information Center suggested that I check out the region called Hakuba: it is where some of the Olympic events took place (the ski jump for one). A 90 minute bus ride will put me in the little town of Happo, which even sounds joyful and upbeat.

There aren’t many people heading for Happo this morning (one, besides me). Everyone else listened to the weather forecast. And here’s the REALLY dumb thing: I decided to not even take my umbrella. My Gap back is showing signs of ripping and I thought one more item may tip it over the edge. So no umbrella.

It remains decentish as we leave Nagano. But as we climb deeper into the highlands, the first drops appear. By the time I get off at Happo, I am not happy to note that that it is raining. Pouring, actually.

Do I get on the next return bus to Nagano? No, I do not. I have had my day of sunshine in the Japanese Alps. This now poses different challenges. Surely in this sleepy Alpine village (Happo is, I am sure, positively hopping in winter, during ski season) there can be good things to discover, even in the rain. [The answer will be yes – so much, YES!]

I NEED AN UMBRELLA: But first, there’s the umbrella issue. I ask at the bus ticket office where I might buy one, fearing that “nowhere” may well be the answer. I never even get an answer. The sweet, sweet agent tells me to borrow hers, resting in the umbrella rack at the side. The happiness starts kicking in (it is THAT kind of a place).


SOBA THIS…:Encouraged, I walk to the mountains. Interestingly, it is a very warm rain and so I never even need the extra sweater. But warm or not, it is still a heavy load of moisture. I decide to hold off on the mountains until the torrential cloud passes (so that we could return to the more steady rain). I walk slowly through the alleys and small streets and I come across a house with a big window. Inside, I see an older woman showing a younger one how to roll out dough. I’ve seen this dough before – it is the soba that is used for noodles here. I watch fascinated. This clearly is a soba noodle-making place. I hover in the doorway and the people from inside ask me to come in and watch.

There is a trick to working with this particular dough, but it is not a difficult trick. I think I can replicated it, though my rolling pin at home is one tenth the length of theirs. But it will work. I make a note to pick up some soba flour to take back home.


I am offered tea – soba tea and it is absolutely sublime. I definitely taste the buckwheat, but it is so mellow and aromatic that I am completely won over. I make a note to bring some of that home as well (anyone who wants to come over for a cup upon my return, email me; the tea is to be shared; after all, it is through someone’s sharing that I learned of it).

As I get ready to leave, I see two other young women arriving, clearly for their soba noodle-making lesson. We chat in the typical incomprehensible way. One of them asks me if I would like to join them in their lesson. In an uncharacteristic move on my part, I decline, though I am ever so touched by the offer. But having watched for a while, I feel comfortable with the technique and in truth, I do want some time to explore. The rain is now just steady, as opposed to torrential.

After buying some soba flour and soba tea, I began to despair. My Gap bag is loosing it’s navyness. It is not only bulging, but the characteristic Gap draw string is ripping the plastic. In short, it is time to find alternate solutions.

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart.. A MIRACLE: just around the corner there is a souvenir shop loaded with pretty old-looking food stuffs (we are definitely in the off season now; no one is buying). And there on the shelf, alongside little trinkets that have the typical nonsensical English slogans, there is a very inexpensive sac on two sturdy cords that you could use in a bag-pack style. It, too, has a slogan. It says: “Forest of Owl --- whatashiwa morino guardman” and it has sweet pictures of owls on it. Precious, maybe a tad too precious for jaded Madison. But a LIFESAVER for me now – it is just what I need and it is cheap!

I do worry about what whatashiwa morino guardman means. I ask the store clerk, which has to be the most ludicrous of questions since he seems to speak all of two words of English, if that. But this being Happo, he understands my gestures and questioning stance and so he gets a dictionary and does a rough translation. I believe it is something about owls being the protectors of the forests. The owl is a mascot of this region and so it makes sense. [Of course, I could have completely misunderstood and he could have been telling me that the owls form a marching army of military activists, but let’s assume not.]


Equipped with something that will even stay dry under the borrowed umbrella, I set off for the forest. The woods in the rain have a fresh, exhilarating smell. It is quiet everywhere. There’s not a single walker out except for me. But I know I wont go far. The rain is, after all, wet.


A WORKING GONDOLA? I notice that at the side of the mountain, where the skiing terrain is located, one of the gondola lifts is in operation. I can’t imagine why. Is it maybe a way to keep the operators on the payroll year-round? Surely no one is riding the gondola in the rain up to a clouded-over summit. And since no one is doing it, I decided I must be the one person to give it a try and see what’s on the top.



To give them credit at the gondola station, no one thinks it weird that I should buy at ticket on this wet wet day. At least their faces hide their questions about my mental state.

As the gondola moves in and out of misty passages I admit I have moments of doubt about my sanity. I find being in dense fog a bit claustrophobic and this is promising to be a trip through very cloudy terrain. But I do notice that I am not the only one using the gondola. A person gets off at the base and he is carrying skis. Skiis???

At the top, I alight to what appears to be the mid-station of a ski area. Oh, it is raining alright, and the air is still warm, but the snow has not melted up here yet – at least not completely – and there are some fanatics who are actually skiing. (The season officially ends here on May 5th –that’s tomorrow).

Am I tempted to join the nuts on the slope? Only a little. Much as I’d like to work my way down that slope, I know that one fall would have me completely drenched in the wetness of the slushy snow. TO SAY NOTHING OF THE CONTINUING RAIN!! I have, after all, never skied with an umbrella before.



But there is another reason not to do it. These people have EQUIPMENT: not only ski gear (which is always easy to rent), but waterproof parkas, gloves, hoods, the works. I, along with my little “Owl, protector of the forest” pack, would definitely feel out of place.

I stand and watch for a while. The mountain goes in and out of cloudcover and I remember how frightening it is to be skiing down and finding yourself in a complete whiteout. You lose your orientation very quickly. Of course, I’ve seen this during snowstorms, never during rain! The most incongruous sight is the one pictured faintly here (these are not optimal photographic conditions): a sakura tree, beginning its bloom, against the backdrop of the wet, snowy ski mountain.

Eventually I take the gondola back down. One attendant has the sole job of wiping down seats in the cabin for future passengers. I’d say that at the rate of one passenger per 1000 cabins, his job seems pretty tame, but then, I am grateful for the dry seat.


P.S.: A break from dinner reflections tonight. You guessed it – I’m back at Gotoku Tei for a final farewell meal there. But tomorrow I am in a completely new locale. Food will be an item once more, I’m sure.

P.P.S. Break from dinner blogging is withdrawn! My hero chef prepared a whole new seasonal menu tonight! Only two of the 11 dishes overlapped from the day before. I’ll spare the descriptions and just roll out a few photos for the foodies among you. EXCEPT, except, well, I have to say that the meal had a problem course. Take a look at the first photo.


If your favorite Japanese chef in Nagano (true, I only know one) went all out for your last night and threw in a delicacy to make you remember this meal forever, would you not eat it? Of course you would. Crispy yummy grasshoppers. What could I do… I’ll still think great thoughts of these last three meals. And if truth be told, the taste of the bugs was quite okay. But oh, those little legs and whiskers and eyes and torsos…So crunchy, too!

JAPAN

OBSERVATIONS ON THE STATE OF BEING

1. Today (Monday) I am tired and not because of all that hiking but because of worrying about blogging between the hours of midnight and 3. Resolve: I will not be so stupid again.

2. Half of me looks like I spent 2 weeks in the Caribbean. For some odd reason the right side of me got very very tanned yesterday (face, neck, arm, the whole bit). It must have been a trail’s positioning, or perhaps the doze by the lake, but I do look odd. I have to give a lecture in two days. I hope I look less odd by then.

3. The Rail Pass is wonderful for a person like me who was raised on train travel (my parents didn’t even own a car until I was in my teens) and would not mind spending a portion of each day in a comfortable train seat. (I include the qualification “comfortable” because there are trains in Poland that I would only recommend to persons whom have caused great harm in this world.) Not surprisingly then, on this day I am again riding the Japan Rail.

WASABI PARADISE


My morning today is at Hotaka – a small town, known for its farming of wasabi (Japanese horseradish). Hotaka is at the foot of the high Japanese Alps; it sprawls across a RELATIVELY flat stretch of land. Let me repeat: RELATIVELY.

…So that my idea of borrowing a bike to move around on is only a semi-good one. I say ‘borrow,’ because the woman renting a handful of bikes has this charming way of proceeding: she tells me to pick a bike, writes my name down on a piece of paper and waves me off .

No credit card? No deposit? No lock on the bike for when I park? No gear shift? NO! How did she know I would not abscond with it? Well, you’d have to take one look at the bike and you’d understand: a one-speed squeaky brake special. But it moved and stopped when I asked it to and she charged me 100 Y (about a dollar) per hour. In Japan. Yes. That little.

THE PROBLEM: The wind today is of gale force, I’m sure. Schools would close and people would go down to the basement back in Wisconsin if we had such gusts blowing. Pedaling against the wind, sometimes uphill, on a one-speed bike is----difficult.



THE JOY: Visiting a large scale wasabi farm is cool enough, especially since the producers went ALL OUT to attract visitors. There are paths through various wasabi-growing bogs (irrigated by pure Alpine streams). There is a wasabi store where you can buy ANYTHING wasabi related (gift shops here are 99% about food). And, there is even a wasabi ice-cream stand. It appears I’ve fallen into a rut of sorts: here’s the photo of the cone which, btw, was quite good , with a nice bit of zest to it.





But in spite of all the wasabi thises and thats, my favorite moment was not while in pursuit of the horseradish in this wasabi paradise. Without doubt, my very favorite moment of the day was when I biked on narrow random paths and came across a family tending its rice field. It is planting time now. Three generations were working diligently to speed up the process. Note the youngest member’s hard contribution. Watching them go about the work, knowing that they never had an audience and were enjoying one now, seeing the little one smile and smile as the wind blew her hair about was quite lovely.

MATSUMOTOOOOOOH, MATSUMOTOOOOOOH


So ‘sings’ the station announcer in a welcoming way when you get off in this town. I went there in the afternoon because it is supposed to charm: smaller than Nagano, it too, is a gateway to the mountains and it has several streets of old merchant houses that are pleasant enough to stroll through. It also is a castle town and the Japanese do love their old castles. And, since they are quite into ranking things, I should note that this particular castle is within the top four in the country. Reason enough to enjoy it? Not really.


What makes for a successful visit to these places, I wonder? Perhaps you warm to places where you are able to identify some essential local trait, spirit, character and you encounter it while there. Perhaps you feel drawn to a spot because you meet someone who lives there and for a second you imagine what it must be like to be located there for the better part of your life. Or, maybe you just have to be in the right frame and my frame was somehow deficient this day.



TOGAKUSHI FOOD (or, if the shoe, NOT THE HORSE SHOE, fits, wear it)

I went back to Gotoku Tei for dinner. How can one do better than this basement joint in the “ladies of the night” building, with the wonderfully fresh ingredients and the terrific cook to watch all evening long?



THE LADIES ISSUE: Readers may think that I exaggerate about the ‘ladies of the night’ thing and that I have no basis for drawing my rather inflammatory conclusions. Okay, doubting junipers, just for you, I am including a few photos of what one may find on one of the floors of the shabby old building. Having seen some of these ladies, let me assure you, they are not here to give tutorials in LSAT test taking.



SOY BEAN CHUTNEY: At Gotoku Tei all is calm and I am again in my little counter seat, staring at the cook who moves so skillfully between his grilled fish and pickles with soy bean chutney. [A digression: I bought a jar of this in the mountain village yesterday. Why? Because there was a line and people were buying at a fast pace and it reminded me of my early years in Poland when you would rush to any line that was forming in a store and only then ask what was being thrown onto the empty shelves. Usually it would be toilet paper. People always lined up for extra toilet paper supplies. Here, I did ask those around me what it is that I was buying but no one had the English to explain it adequately. I encountered this ‘relish’ again at the wasabi farm where you could buy a snack of long pickles which you would then dip in a little paper container of this stuff. I was almost going to buy a bright green pickle for munching purposes, but then I saw someone picking through the pickles with their hand, testing this one’s firmness, then that one’s and somehow the taste for it disappeared. I know that they are all washing their hands constantly here, but still, I imagined many hands had picked through the pickle pot and that was rather unsettling.) Now, sure enough, the soy spread is here again, at Gotoku Tei.

AVOIDING DELICACIES: I ordered a different set of dishes on this night– these were under heading of “Togakushi meal” (though the photos make at least one look similar, they are in fact quite different in both taste and presentation). Togakushi is the region I visited yesterday and I would not have even hesitated to pick this menu (being rather a fan of the region) except that the area is known for its fine horsemeat and I worried that a plate of it would be among the parade of eleven dishes that I’d eventually have to work my way through. If forced by circumstances, I could swallow even this ‘delicacy,’ but they would have to be rather extreme circumstances and I would not enjoy it.


You can imagine my attempt at formulating the “is there horsemeat?” question (which I felt compelled to ask before taking the plunge into Togakushi food). In spite of my best efforts at demonstrating what I was referring to, the waitress drew a blank. Luckily my hero chef came to the rescue and said in almost perfect English “Togakushi meal no meat.” I am on a fish roll here!


Again, it was all abundantly delicious, although I did not realize that in this particular grilled fish plate, the crustaceans are supposed to be ingested whole – shells and all. They are grilled to a crisp and I saw patrons crunching away at the entirety. I don’t know about that… (Included are food photos for the reader who lobbied for them. Your loyalty will be rewarded!)

JAPAN

A SLOW LEARNER CATCHES ON


 
I finally understood why I am seeing so many little children everywhere (especially in Matsushima), but not any big children. For a while I worried that big children had left Japan in pursuit of academic excellence elsewhere. But no, of course they’re here! I saw a train-load in the wee hours of this morning as I caught my little commuter train out of Matsushima. They’re in school right now (including Saturdays). They do not have a Golden Week off. Their parents may have a Golden Week, their little sisters and brothers who are not yet in school have it as well, but bigger kids are in great halls of learning from early in the morning until late into the day. (I’ve included a photo here of a none-too-happy soul riding the train this morning to her school, and a somewhat happier bunch returning home in Nagano.)


GIFT GIVING

Every time I pass through a train station I have a chance to see yet another display (usually more than one) of prettily-wrapped boxes of sweet treats. The Japanese are such gift givers! Wherever they go they take with them a small gift. Sweets rank high on the list of possible presents and on the train many will be carrying bags with boxes of goodies for the person they are going to visit.

I brought some of these treats back to Madison last time I returned from Japan, but somehow I think they got lost in translation. Even for me, back home, I wondered what the charm of sesame paste confections or green tea cakes was, whereas in Japan I thought both were exquisite. (Green tea anything is done well here: my green tea snack from this afternoon is pictured here on the left; it is NOT suspended in the air, I am just an artful balancer of cones.)


SNEEZERS BUT NOT HONKERS

I learned recently that it is impolite to blow your nose in public and so I am glad I do not have the sniffles (though delicate sniffling –meaning blowing in rather than out if you have a cold—is acceptable).

On the other hand, I have never heard so many people sneeze so constantly and so loudly as I have here. It’s as if Japan has one big allergy taking hold.

And, so long as I am on this indelicate topic of germs and nasal passages, I do wonder if people here who wear masks in public (and there are a number who do so) are protecting us from them or themselves from the rest of the unsanitary world.


A DIGRESSION ON VISITING SHRINES AND TEMPLES


Readers may be wondering by now: a week in Japan and no shrines under my belt? (Most likely not a single person reading this is wondering any such thing, but it is at least a theoretical possibility****.) The short answer is that yes, indeed, I have visited shrines, temples, Buddhas, Jizo statues (that’s the one a step down from Buddha; Jizo is thought to be a protector of small children, hence he is often sporting a bright red bib and cap – note photo).

However, this blog is not a travel journal. “I saw this and I did that” are not words I would typically use here. If I listed every temple that I entered, or Buddha that I passed in Japan I’d be down to a readership of one—me.

It’s hard sometimes to imagine what may be of general interest (and therefore blog-worthy), but I do know that me visiting shrines and temples is NOT of general interest.


THE COLORS OF NAGANO


Okay, I may be biased, but this town SINGS with color! It’s population is slightly larger than that of Madison (it has about 350,000), just to put it in perspective. It feels at once more urban and yet it has a small-city informality to it. But that isn’t the magic of the place. Its unique loveliness is much helped by the flowers that line the main street. And I don’t mean just hanging baskets or a flower box here and there. Each block has a singular color scheme and flower combination, and the boxes are at times three rows deep in from the curb. Yes, yes, they hit the right person here: flowers definitely are going to win me over. But isn’t it the most clever idea? It positively adds bounce to your step as you walk past rows and rows of blooming bins, boxes and baskets. [The sample of photos doesn’t fully do it justice, but it’s a start.]


RELIGIOUS SYMBOLS OF PURITY AND FORTUNE


Now that the truth is out and I have admitted to visiting shrines, I do want to say a few words on that. I am always surprised by the following:

- That your shoes are exactly where you left them after you are done with the visit inside. True, there aren’t many people in this world who would be tempted by a used shoe, but I can imagine that pranksters would find it amusing to shuffle them around a bit. In Japan in general, you can leave something in a public place and expect it to be there when you return three months later (okay, poetic license here).

- That a Japanese person may both ring the gong to get the attention of the gods in a shrine and cross him or herself in a Christian church. Any other small acts of religious worship? Bring them on, they’ll find acceptance here! Most Japanese do not subscribe to religious exclusivity. Two, three religions? it’s all good. Is it a devout nation? Not according to the books. Most people adhere to these symbolic gestures and let it go at that.

- But oh, there are so many symbols! Just visiting Nagano’s famous Zenkoji temple allowed me to witness people washing their hands and rinsing their mouths at a trough of sorts in front of the temple (to purify the body before entering a sacred place), persons standing in front of billowing incense smoke and rubbing themselves with it, older couples going up to a Buddha statue and massaging the diety’s head and body so that maybe a bit of the good fortune would spill over – on and on, acts of hope, acknowledgements of human frailty and imperfection. But so many of them! Did I mention picking out fortunes in front of a shrine? You read it and either take it home, or, if you don’t like it, you tie it to a special place outside the temple and someone else can worry a bout it. So many symbols! Feel-good acts to help you along with the day.


****Even if I was not able to enter the mind of the average reader with that one, I may still be able to anticipate questions running through reader minds. Here’s a list of some probable ones, along with my answers:

Q: How come you didn’t blog about eating dinner tonight?
A: Because I cheated and jumped the ocean over to China. I have to say that eating Chinese food in Japan is always an eye-opening event which allows me to understand how big our American appetites really are. In a Chinese restaurant here, you can size your own portion. Let me assure you that if you pick the one meant for 1 – 2 people, you’ll walk away hungry. I never have the guts to order the next size up, for 2 – 3 people, but I do compensate by ordering another plate of something, and then going over to the convenience store next door for some munchies to take back to the hotel room. And many will attest to the fact that I am not especially a ravenous eater.

Q: Why don’t you ever write about the things that are not working in Japan? You seem almost to be a Japan-ophile.
A: Is that a word? I am not a fan of publicly criticizing other countries unless I have experienced some deeply-felt aggravation on my own. I carry the weight of many years of listening to travelers to Poland list small grievances of being a tourist there and little of the joy of experiencing a different culture. I’ve always wanted to kick them in places where it hurts. Moreover, I wont mention something about Japan that I myself have not encountered. For example, I know that men grope women in crowded trains and subways here. I know, because I have read about this countless times. Trains and subways have gone so far as to create separate “women only” cars so that women passengers don’t have to tolerate this indecency. But I wont put that into the blog because it has never happened to me.

Q: You just put it in the blog.
A: Oh.

Q: Have you ever sat in a bar like in Lost in Translation and experienced a feeling of profound displacement?
A: Not on this trip; though I must admit that the thought has crossed my mind tonight, as I have a coupon for a free drink on the top floor of this hotel. I haven’t decided between wanting to get some sleep because I want to get going early tomorrow, or being the stereotypical Pole who never passes up a free anything.