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:

JAPAN

A THURSDAY LIKE NO OTHER DAY

I am still uncertain as to whether I have retained any ability to converse normally, in a language that would be understood, thus throughout today’s blog, I will periodically do a practice dialogue, just to keep in shape. I’ll ask questions of myself that I may well have asked had I been reading my own blog for the first time, if that makes any sense.

RECREATING HOME: So often when I am away I look for creating new routines that stand in for the absence of the ordinary. For instance, today I found a little spot called Rosie’s Café. It had the English words spelled out for imbecile foreigners who don’t speak Japanese. That would include me.

At Rosie’s, you could buy a set breakfast for 600 Y (a touch under $6). Here’s what you got today <-- Notice the little Japanese touch – a nice morning veggie salad. It was the OJ substitute. The entire meal was absolutely delicious –the baked goods were light and the coffee was deeply satisfying. Plus they understood my complicated request for some hot milk on the side for the coffee. Rosie’s became an instant winner and so now Rosie’s is going to be part of my morning routine. Q: How come you always blog about food? A: Because I like to read about food. And I like to photograph food. Food is often in my thoughts. Q: And the weather – how was the weather on this day? A: It was wondrously perfect: sunny, not too hot, just lovely. Thanks for asking, it is important to the story of this day. GARDEN NUMBER ONE:






In my morning walk I came across a private traditional Japanese garden. The attendant was selling entrance tickets at a hefty 1000 Y, but what are you going to do, not spend the money after you’ve come all this way to Japan and you enjoy gardens so much? Of course I am going to plunk down the cash, albeit with some reluctance. It is really expensive, even for here. Garden fees run anywhere from 100 to a maximum of 500 Y if there’s a shrine or two thrown in. Here, it’s just a garden.

But it was a pretty decent garden. Like in others here, the emphasis was not on flowers (blooms, if they appear at all, are limited to rhododendrons or irises – each having a short blooming life, and so basically Japanese gardens are flowerless). What was visually striking was the combination of green tones, the careful arrangements, the inclusion of water and the positioning of rocks. The play of all this on the senses was really quite astonishing. I was almost forgiving of the entry fee.

PERFECTION:

It was still reasonably early as I made my way to the first shrine in a complex of major and minor shrines. This one, the Konchi-In Temple, was off to the side, off the main path.

The attendant saw that I carried the map and brochure from the private garden. He asked if I liked it (in pretty decent, if a little halting, English). I said yes, actually it was nice enough, but I found it a touch expensive (clearly I had not reconciled myself with letting go of the $10 for it). He acknowledged that indeed it was ridiculously overpriced. He himself had never been there, even though it was all of maybe 100 meters away. He asked to see the brochure and map and I told him to keep both. He seemed deeply fascinated by them and for me, after all, it was just another brochure to take back home and forget about. He was so pleased with this! He dug into his desk and came forth with all sorts of booklets and pamphlets on the Konchi-In garden and temple and told me to keep these in exchange. I found these to be lovely and informative and so I accepted and went inside.





Let me put myself in the mood of that moment: I am completely alone there. Why, I wonder? It is the most beautiful place! It is not large, but it has all the elements that make for a magnificent perfection. The temple stands to the side and its rooms have the ornamented gold screens with flowers and cranes -- so typical of these structures. The rooms open out onto a Zen garden. I have read a lot about these and a year ago I visited the Zen of all Zens – a garden reputed to tower over the rest. But here, in this corner, I found my own perfection.

Imagine! To be sitting alone on the steps of the temple, looking out onto the peaceful arrangement of raked stones with an artful backdrop of variously shaped rocks… to be listening to the quiet, so that the history of the place, for the first time for me really, could come through and make an impression…to be transfixed by the utter serenity of the scene (it felt like getting a mind massage to get rid of the knots and toxins)…such peace is so hard to come by, and here, it just fell in my lap. It positively chokes you up when you are experiencing it.

Only one other person is on the premises. An older man is clearing the path – raking, sweeping, moving quietly among the shrubbery. He is close enough that I go up to tell him that this is the most beautiful of places, the most special of moments. He says in English “thank you.”

I find it hard to leave, but eventually I do. I go back to the gate attendant who seems happy to see me again. He asks me in his halting English “You liked it, yes? You met abbot, the famous priest of Nan-ji?” I look puzzled. I met no one. Should I? Is it expected? Does one sign a book or something? The attendant persists: “You met him! He told me. He said to give you present.” And he gives me a collection of pictures from the garden and temple.

I had no idea the sweeper was a man of great stature. He seemed so approachable, even to me.

I don’t know why his gesture meant so much to me. Possibly I was already overwhelmed. That extra touch of generosity and kindness just put me over the top. One more word and I would have burst into tears or had some other uncontrollable emotional reaction, so I just left. But I’ll go back some early morning before I leave Kyoto.

OTHE TEMPLES, OTHER ZEN MOMENTS:




Yes, yes, there were other temples, some more famous than Konchi-In. I am including some photos to compare and contrast. (I can’t resist, though I am mindful of overblogging here.) In some, the Zen raked pebbles approach a complexity that is quite remarkable. The one (pictured right below) in Ginkakuji stands out. And, of course, there is always a water component to the display. But, this not being a travel guide, I wont run through them. I did think that this last garden had terrific moss as part of the composition. Indeed, to the side, I found the following informative little display [it says: “VIP: Very Important Moss.” Cute.]





I didn’t want to clutter the blog with too many photos which have little meaning to the reader and so I skipped putting in ones of the real garden sweepers: they can be found everywhere. Most interesting is, I think, their sweeping of streams. They literally wipe down the stones under the water. Of course, the paths and the gardens themselves, including the forested parts, are immaculate. The sense of order is absolute. Nothing is out of place. Living in the crowded chaos of the world outside, this must be such welcome relief to a Japanese visitor. To me – it is sheer marvel.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF A WALK:

I know Kyoto is not the only city with a Philosophers' Path. But the one here is quite wonderful. In a congested city, it manages to quietly meander its way alongside a stream over a significant stretch. Occasional benches offer a chance to contemplate. Of course, I assume that philosophers of the past did not merely sit and think their great thoughts. Most likely they had an ongoing discourse, to be picked up again when next they found themselves here. But this is a different era and so we offer our own style of contemplation. Consider these three examples from my passing walk among those with great thoughts. There was the comfortable thinker:



The one who looked the part:



And the artist:



And where would I fit in? My thoughts, as usual, were all over the place. Perhaps they did not match those of past great minds who have walked this path. On the other hand, they were one step ahead of the first guy.

Q: So is that all the food we’re going to get? Weren’t you hungry?
A: One doesn’t think of food when one is achieving inner peace. I did buy these sesame buns with sweet bean paste. See what I mean? It somehow sounds odd out of context, but I sampled some here and I love them! Dinner hasn’t been eaten yet. Maybe I’ll blog about it, maybe I wont. Depends on the hour – I have work scheduled for early tomorrow.

Q: Do you find yoursefl missing flowers, what with all those trees to look at in the garden?
A: The flowers make an appearance in the flower shops.



And who would not love the trees?



Q: Were you the only foreigner around, sort of like in Nagano and Matsushima?
A: Oh, heavens no! They are not numerous yet (wait until summer!), but foreigners are part of Kyoto – Americans have a significant expat community here (I am recalling my very first posts of the blog where I was reading Pico Iyer’s book on Kyoto). And there are the handfuls of tourists here and there – I’ve heard quite a bit of Russian which just strikes me as odd (I don’t know why, but it does). And then there are the Europeans and Australians.

Q: Do they stand out much? I’m always curious how foreign visitors handle cultural differences when they are visiting…
A: It seems to me that all “westerners” stand out in Japan because, by comparison, they (sorry, WE) are such slobs! The elegance of the average Japanese is striking. Women wear nylons on their walks through these gardens and temples. Men are in slacks and blazers. Americans cannot stop wearing shorts (I am not one of them!). I do feel like a wrinkled mess here and I neglected to bring anything made of silk so there’s a mismatch right then and there. I dutifully do my own laundry every single night and so it’s not the cleanliness that’s at issue, but being in a big Japanese city always makes me feel unkempt.
The bigger question is how much SHOULD one conform to the standards of the host country? One might argue that we all have risen ABOVE the bourgeois concepts of appearance in search of higher virtues, but the argument rings false to me. I think we just don’t care about conforming – we like to assert our individual independence. That’s fine, but to a point. These shorts, especially on cooler days, HAVE to go. They just are WRONG for anywhere but the beach. Urban is urban. One should adjust, it seems. And I do really try to not look frumpy. But next to a Japanese, I am always on the side of frump.

JAPAN

BRIEFLY NOTED

- You haven’t lived until you’ve tried to find an international ATM machine at Tokyo Station (a transfer point for me today) on the busiest travel day of the year (May 5th, end of Golden Week), loaded down with a broken suitcase, a computer and an “owl, protector of the forest” sack, while the country is on a Rail high alert (terrorist fears). Disneyland on the 4th of July could not compare.

- Before leaving Nagano, I watched a small band perform outside in celebration of Children’s Day. It was drizzling steadily so it couldn’t have been fun for them. The kid musicians had an interesting English name plastered over their drums and tubas: the Ducky Marching Band. Made me wonder if they were fashioning themselves after the Bucky Marching Band.

- On the trains that connect major cities, the English-language announcer asks passengers to put their 'moblie phones' on vibrate or silent mode. If you decide to take a call, etiquette demands that you go to the end of the car. Interestingly, on the Van Galder Bus to Chicago’s O’Hare, the driver also asked cell-phone users to please be courteous in phone conversations. He explained that this means talking in a voice that you’d use while conversing with your seat mate. (Do people typically shout without restraint otherwise?)

- Mistakes made by me continue to punctuate each day: Yesterday I hastily drank my coffee and ate my left-over soba cookies (what do you mean ‘that’s not a proper breakfast?’ I call that a good breakfast!) on the run, trying to catch my Highland bus early in the day. I’m sure I caused great consternation and discomfort among those around me. I’d forgotten that eating while walking is a shameful act here (ice-cream is the exception).


SO HOW IS KYOTO??

I could not tell you on the basis of my stay here thus far, though in this exceptionally confusing city, it helps that it is a return visit for me. Today, I arrived in the late afternoon and spent the next hours trying to understand the computer set up in this particular hotel. It is yet another permutation of technological resources: fast Ethernet service is available, but I have to take my computer down to the business center (a funny description: it is a closet with three computers in it) each time. No matter, at least it’s not dial-up.

Kyoto in the early evening (pictured here along its river bank) is the Kyoto every foreign traveler wants to experience. It is at once charming and seedy and dirty and expensive and colorful and full of the old Japan you’d worried doesn’t exist anymore. (Though should it? For your pleasure alone?) You can see rare glimpses of Geisha women still shuffling stiffly to spend an evening pleasing their sponsoring men. Kyoto during the day is all about temples and shrines (there are hundreds of them here and each is different). In the night, it is about a more sensual pleasure.

DINNER: It is back to the LP guide for food suggestions. And there are many in this town! I pick the wonderful, the fresh and honest Ganko Zushi.



Oh, I feel so fickle! My Nagano chef has been replaced by this Kyoto one (who in addition to being a great cook, has a modest kind of charm that is downright infectious).




I asked that he prepare a small selection of sushi for me and then, for my main course, I chose the crab and vegetable broth dish: I got a pot of hot broth and a plate of raw crab and veggies to cook in it. It sounded easy enough, but of course there are ten thousand tricks involved (for instance, would you know what to do with the little square of tofu in the broth? And how about once you cook a veggie – what then? And, the red peppery horseradish – where does that fit in? on and on…).





At the counter next to me, a couple, Kazumi and Masahiko, were eating their dinner and watching me flub everything in sight. They were, I am certain, amused no end. Ever so discreetly Kazumi would suggest the proper next step (for instance, to avert an imminent disaster, like having the pot boil over because I didn’t know how to regulate the heat). Occasionally, her friend Masahiko would offer tips – at first on the topic of the proper consumption of Japanese food and eventually in other domains as well.


Kazumi and Masahiko aren’t from Kyoto. They live some ways away, though they come to this city frequently. In their ‘real life’ they work, I think, in the arts – she teaches piano, he does sound engineering (there are so many leaps involved in getting to that level of understanding, but an exchange of cards helped in at least professional identification). Masahiko’s English is pretty much non-existent and Kazumi struggles with even basic expressions. Still, in the course of the evening they proved themselves to be sweetly generous. And it seems we have a friendship in the making since on Sunday Kazumi suggested that she and Masahiko come in to Kyoto to take me to places that are their personal favorites here. I’m looking forward to that. Even with all sorts of language issues that are bound to arise, I can tell that spending a day with them will be well worth the communication struggles.

As for the verdict on the food? I have absolutely no complaints. Even about the final bill, which says a lot.