JAPAN

REFLECTIONS ON BEING LOYAL TO A BREAKFAST SPOT IN KYOTO

Rosie’s (that would be the Rose Café, relabeled by me for purposes of convenience; see earlier Kyoto post) and I have been out of step from day 2 of our first breakfast encounter. Let me explain.

On day 2, she was still closed at 7:30 a.m. when I wanted her to be open already.

Then, on day 3, I came in, ordered the breakfast special (salad, coffee and a basket with 3 bakery items), but told them to just put in 2 bakery items because it is a waste otherwise. I wont eat 3. She brought me a basket with the 2 most boring buns in the entire Café, skipping the lovely apple croissant.

Then, on day 4, I came in and smacked my lips tellingly at the apple croissant so that Rosie could see what was coveted by me. But just as insurance, in case she wasn’t watching or understanding the “smacking lips” concept, I decided NOT to ask for a reduction to 2 bakery items. I was paying the same price and so I might as well get all three and eat my apple favorite. But Rosie, bless her heart, thought she had me figured out and so she only brought two: the same boring bun and a piece of buttered bread.

Then, today (day 5), I had been working on my interview notes and blogging between the hours of 2:30 a.m. and 8 a.m. (yes, my sleep is forever confused) and so I decided to take a brief nap before seeting out for the day. As a result, I did not get to Rosie’s until 10:05 a.m., by which time Rosie’s breakfast special was off the books. Good! I can finally REQUEST whatever I want. I am standing there, searching the display for my apple fantasy as Rosie draws my attention to a tray of freshly baked croissants. Oh fine, fresh is good, I’ll just have one of those with coffee. I sit down, nibble away and come across a thick slice of ham inside. I can eat it, not a problem, but given the choice, I would never ever pick a lunchmeat for any meal and certainly not for one before the evening which means basically never. So there you have it, Rosie flubbed again.

I have 2 more mornings left. Could it be possible that at least on one of them I will get what I have been longing for from day 1? I wont give up on her, but really, I am getting nervous. I may never have that apple croissant again. Is Rosie unforgiving about my misuse of her cafe name?

HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE TO WALK FROM ONE END OF KYOTO TO THE OTHER?

Many hours. I did it today. I could have taken the subway, but I walked instead. People ask me often why I take the slower routes. Why take the train to Sapporo for 8 or 9 hours when there is a one hour flight? Why walk when there is an excellent system of public transportation? The same reason applies to both examples and it is the obvious reason. I SEE more when I slow down.

Someone recently commented that my blog tends to highlight the spectacular places and moments rather than giving an impression of the daily, the ordinary. This is true and it is deliberate.

Kyoto is 95% visually unspectacular and that’s being kind. I am deeply interested in the street scenes (hence the long walk today), but what tugs at my emotions most are the gems – the temples, gardens, etc –that stand in stark contrast to the eye-sores that are common to virtually every block here. I cannot NOT blog about the sights that often move me so deeply. The other stuff, the street scenes, well, I take them all in and they stay with me, but I don’t know that they would enrich my blog. Or at least they would more than double the post length, because they would have to be in addition to, not instead of what I have already included. I feel I am already taxing reader patience with the number of words and pictures I insert here. And so I make choices and for the most part, the street scenes are eliminated after the first cut.


NIJO CASTLE

Ah! Not a shrine! Not a temple! It is the one castle in Kyoto that you don’t have to literally petition the government to gain entry into. It is, perhaps for this reason, swarming with school groups. In Wisconsin, every fourth grader gets to go on a visit to the State Capitol. In Kyoto Prefecture and beyond, every junior high schooler gets to visit Nijo Castle. Or so it seems.

But it is a remarkable building and so I can hardly blame the teachers for wanting the kids to see this historic structure. It has fantastic screens and the ghosts of Tokugawa shoguns and feudal lords and a nightingale floor (built so that when you step on it the boards purposeful emit a warning squeak, sounding very much like the twitter of a nightingale) and a wonderful garden. In short, it is a gem. I wont write a single other detail, but so long as I am garden obsessed I did want to point to the mystical quality of this one. Of course, gardens are so weather dependent. Today, the skies went from cloudy to drizzly to torrential rain to cloudy to drizzly etc etc over and over again. The garden is verdant and the water still manages to beautifully reflect its every detail, but given the cloudiness, the greens become more muted in tone.



IS IT OKAY TO REVISIT A SIGHT FROM LAST YEAR’S TRIP HERE?

So far, I’ve been going for the new. There are so many shrines, gardens, temples – why retrace steps already taken? One reason may be because there is the occasional Temple that impresses so much that I think it deserves a second look (particularly since I now seem to be hitting the beginning of the Japanese iris season). And so, today, I come back to the Golden Pavillion of the Rokuon-ji Temple.



The rain comes down with a vengeance after I leave the Temple grounds. How lucky, again, I am on this trip! As the downpour begins, I find a gem of a tea shop with Japanese cakes and the most soothing, gentle brew of tea I’ve had in a long time. After asking for seconds and thirds, the waitress finally just brings me the whole teapot. And the little cake is delicious. And the check comes to 189 Y. How nice!


THE UNEXPECTED BEAUTY OF THE QUIET NINNA(JI)

I went to the Ninnaji because of the name. Really. It is not a place pushed by the guide books and so I almost had second thoughts myself (it is rather out of the way). But no, I have now that creeping feeling of desperation: one more temple, one more, my time here is almost up, let me just fit in another!

It is raining. I have some difficulty finding the entrance to the Temple. Inside, the grounds are sprawling and there are no western language signs. I walk past cherry trees with branches hanging almost to the ground in an uncharacteristic way – they must be gorgeous during sakura blooming season here. An old pagoda emerges to the right. It is fitting that it looks so old in this rather overgrown garden. There is something solitary and forgotten about the entire place. I amuse myself by thinking of ways to analogize it to me, just because of the name.



I watch the rain pour down the slate roofs of the secondary buildings. It’s all rather sad, really.

I’m ready to leave, puzzling why the doors are closed off everywhere. They should be open, for I read somewhere that this place has lovely temple rooms with well-preserved gold plated screens. I see no screens.

On my way out I study the large landscape map by the entry. It is in Japanese, but I can plainly see that it shows buildings I completely missed. I wonder whether I should go back. It is so lonely here. Last days, last hours, last temple perhaps. I go back.

I enter the forgotten Zen Temple as the rain again starts to turn vicious. What good timing. In the Zen complex of buildings, as you leave your shoes, you follow open corridors that have the smooth wood floors and are covered with roofs. Nowhere is rain less important than in a temple of this sort. In fact, I begin to think that this is as close to experiencing rain without getting wet as you can get. You are outside and yet you are protected.



Here are the screens! The cranes on one are so much like the ones I saw on the Kyoto riverbank the other day (see photos below)! This is only the second place that permits inside photographs and I am happy to be able to capture some of the interiors (I have spared blog readers my clicking nirvana). Oh, and that wood feels so good on sore feet that have walked too much today. A handful of people shuffle by noiselessly, for without shoes, our feet buff the surfaces without a sound. It is so quiet here!





Around the corner I am stunned to see a complicated Zen garden. The gravel and stones are set against a pond flanked by greenery, with the distant pagoda showing its roof above the tree tops. It is breathtakingly beautiful and the rain adds a dimension that I had not anticipated: it’s as if there is more water here than just that in the pond. I sit as so many others have sat, alone again, glad that this Ninnaji got passed over. I am again selfishly enjoying the beauty of a more quiet, contemplative Ninnaji. The place is magic. It is worth looking for.





AN EVENING OF FOOD, THEATER STARS, NATIONALISM AND KARAOKE

Kazumi and Masaiko (friends from day one of my Kyoto stay) take me to another favorite food house for dinner (“Muhoumatu”). It is a ma & pa type of eating establishment: the husband and wife do everything, from going out into the hills in the morning in search of weeds to cook and garnish with, to cooking and prepping the food. As far as I can tell, no more than about 8, max 10 people can sit at the counter at the same time, the place is that small.

(FOOD:) My friends are right to praise the food. The chef, a self-taught guy, has a flair for pairing flavors. I am throwing in just one or two photos from this meal below (including wild mountain weeds tempura!), but again, I am too intent on consumption to worry about art too much.





(STARS:) A new couple comes in and sits down. Over time, we come to include them in the evening – it is a small place after all and we find ourselves commenting about the food together. The man, Matsunoto Karu, is an actor and professor of the traditional Japanese Kanze theater. I gather he is quite well-known among the acting circles.



Matsunoto asks if I would like to come and watch them rehearse tomorrow. I tell him that I am working most of the day but would be glad to come over afterwards. Kazumi offers to rearrange her schedule so that she can be in Kyoto one more day and join me for this rather nice honor.

(NATIONALISM:) As Matsunoto talks of his most recent travels to Europe and Canada where he both teaches traditional theater and acts in it, our chef grows increasingly agitated. Finally he can no longer contain his displeasure with the world. He gets our attention and proclaims: “I am not part of international. I am Japanese! I cook Japanese food, I like Japanese ways, I am Japanese! I want to stay Japanese!” He appears angry and he retreats into the back of the kitchen.



Everyone is silent, feeling profoundly embarrassed at the chef’s perceived rudeness toward me. But I am not offended. What, I don’t know that there are people like this in Japan? In the United States? In Poland as well? People who hide behind safe labels of patriotism and loyalty to their country and who resist having the external world encroach upon their safe habits that they regard as somehow superior? The difference here is that the chef expressed with a great deal of emotion something that is concealed in so many others.

I have no great tolerance for nationalism of this sort. I do not forgive it or accept it. But I don’t feel it helps to engage it at the emotional level either. I tell the chef that I admire his desire to preserve traditional Japanese ways of cooking and I let it go at that.

(KARAOKE:) It is well after midnight before my hosts suggest an evening of singing. I agree, but only for a brief hour. So much work awaits me tomorrow that I feel I should end the evening soon.

Karaoke here remains extremely popular. In most instances, it is a private activity that you engage in with your particular group of friends behind closed doors. We are given the key to one out of many rooms. There we select songs and take turns belting out the lyrics, sometimes together, sometimes in solo renditions. There isn’t the public element to it and so the competitiveness or potential humiliation are at once removed. And you can limit your musical options to those that appeal to your particular group.





Finding common ground unfortunately steers my little group to music of the Carpenters (a real favorite among the Japanese), Boz Scaggs, and less unfortunately –the Beatles and Carole King. Masaiko and Kazumi are gutsy singers, but then so am I. By this late hour, any missteps (and there are many) are extremely funny – as are the video clips that accompany each music selection. If I was tired earlier in the evening, by now I am wide awake. The struggle with aligning my internal clock continues. But sanity does lead me to finally call it quits at some beastly unmentionable late (or is it early by now?)hour. Too many miles of walking today to keep me peppy now. And there’s still the blog to attend to back at the hotel.

JAPAN

MOTHERS

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.

JAPAN

KYOTO IS A VILLAGE…

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.

JAPAN

MEN, WOMEN, GIRLS, BOYS AND FOOD

No gardens or shrines or temples today (Friday) – it is a day of heavy duty teaching in the morning and of taking a closer look at the hub of Kyoto dusk life later in the day.

I mention men and women in the post title because throughout the day this topic has surfaced in one way or another. In general, the subject of gender relations in Japan is a difficult one to take on for any number of reasons. I certainly do not want to address it in this blog at this minute. But there are a few observations that can be made that do have elements of the men – women compartmentalization that takes place here. These I am willing to put forth, though with a strong warning that they are not meant to set the stage for any conclusive argument of any sort. They are random. Completely random.

So, I jotted down a few, just from this day. Interspersed are comments about food. Of course. Total of eight points. Not too bad.

1. This morning it took me more than 90 minutes to walk to Doshisha University where I was to lecture at 9 a.m.. Therefore I had to skip Rosie’s for breakfast (it opens at 8). But in passing it, I noticed that it was not really called Rosie’s. That name came from my imagination. It is called ‘Rose Café.” That sounds more genteel, but Rosie’s felt more appropriate and homey. Anyway, I am glad I didn’t ask the proprietress if her name was, by chance, Rosie.

2. After my lecture, I was to lead a discussion on the topics I’d covered in the presentation. Although the class had 50% men and 50% women, 75% of the hands raised (with questions or comments) were those of women students (I counted). Since this is the first semester ever of a Japanese graduate program in law (up until this April, law had always been exclusively an undergrad major), I had never worked with Japanese grad students before. For me, it was exciting to teach students who were more ambitious and serious about the field. My colleagues here have mixed personal reactions. Some see it as a great burden since they have to create an entire new curriculum. BTW, of the some 12 law profs that I have repeatedly worked with in Japan, only two are women. Interestingly, neither of the two have children. All of the men (as far as I know) have children. A reminder: there’s no science in this, just random observations.

3. I lost my esteemed translator for my work in the courts next week! The law professor who had kindly volunteered to go with me to the court and assist in interpreting got a message from none other than the super esteemed professor Guido Calabresi (from Yale Law School) announcing his imminent arrival here. If Guido Calbresi asks for your personal escort services you don’t say no. So rather than act as my lowly translator, my colleague is off to greener pastures in the next few days. Did he leave me stranded without an interpreter? Definitely not. He volunteered his wife. He told me –“she speaks better English than I do anyway.” I worried that this would be an utter burden for her. He told me – “of course not! She’ll be delighted!” I don’t quite believe him on this, but I accepted the offer nonetheless.




4. I caught this picture of a group of boys heading home from school (late in the day, of course). They were so full of pent-up energy that I thought surely they would demolish everything in sight as they made their way down the street. They banged or knocked or kicked every tempting item in sight. It was interesting walking a few steps behind. Eventually I passed them, but that’s only because they got waylaid by some grimy article of clothing which they found lying on the street. Imagine the possibilities! After stomping on it, tearing it apart, etc, there still remains rubbing each others’ faces in it, etc. Such creativity!






5. On the other hand, I also passed this group of preschool children where all the little girls and the little boys (some wearing pink caps) were docile and sweet through and through. Must be the age.



6. In the afternoon I went to the food market. I inserted a few photos here, but I could sum it up in this way: the market is 80 % fish products, 10% pickle varieties and 10% everything else.











7. In the dusk I spent a while in that part of Kyoto which may be interesting to stroll through but impossible to photograph. Its regulars hate the sight of cameras and often make a point of quickly disappearing behind closed doors if they see you poised and ready to shoot. It is the place where the last remaining Geisha women work their traditional craft. Everyone moves very rapidly and you never know when a photo moment will arise. I wont even admit to how long it took before I could take a photo that could even vaguely identify the subject. I do have a strategically good spot worked out for optimal observation purposes and will sell this information to anyone who asks. It is NOT in the guide books and it almost guarantees a Geisha sighting around 5:45 each evening.


With all respect toward cultural diversity, I cannot admit to being much of a fan of the institution of Geisha. To me, the offense is especially evident in the way the recipients of the Geisha services approach the matter. If you saw the black cars full of the business elite, arriving at these private Geisha houses, if you saw their faces, their confident manner, their evident sense of entitlement, you’d possibly react with similar revulsion toward the entire set-up. Nonetheless, being a first class Geisha is a skill and a craft and it can be beautifully executed – at least at the level of appearance.

8. Dinner at Tagato was too expensive. I am indeed frustrated with the prices here sometimes (am I on a negative roll or what?). Tagato (recommended by any number of newspaper articles on Kyoto) is a very innocuous place with the charming location of a tacky shopping passageway. I ordered the smaller of the two dinner sets and one beer and left with 5,000 fewer Yen on me. TOO EXPENSIVE!

Forgetting about the TOO EXPENSIVE price tag, I would have to say that the food was very good. It was a Kyoto Kaiseki meal – a many part arrangement, with soba, tempura, steamed rice, miso soup and pickles, the typical foods offered in these sets (but TOO EXPENSIVE). One interesting situation to find yourself in is where everyone around you is suddenly eating soba noodles at the same time. The slurping noise completely unsettles you because we so are not used to eating in this way. Japanese people slurp loudly and purposefully. It is a sign of noodle enjoyment. I COUL NOT do it. So ingrained is my resistance to it that I just could not slurp with abandon. But the slurping of others was so deafening that I am sure no one noticed my silent swallowing.

Dinner photos for foodie-type readers: