Monday
February 4th |
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Went to
Nara, an ancient imperial capitol city located near Kyoto. The
neat surprise to this day-trip was enjoying a free tour provided
by a volunteer guide from the local YMCA. She was a woman,
probably around 40-years-old, with two kids, who picked up this
volunteer gig once a month to practice her English. She knew all
about the temples we visited; she explained about the "fukusa"
(see February 2nd) and about the "maneki neki," the
"lucky cat" sculptures I'd been seeing all over Kyoto;
and she even introduced me to a small local place for lunch. We
visited Kofuku-ji temple, which has an impressive five-storied
pagoda. Also Todai-ji, whose central hall is amazingly large-it's
the world's biggest wooding building (despite being only 75% the
size of the first version of the building, which burned down).
Actually, the temple buildings burned down quite often. Todai-ji
was originally accompanied by the world's tallest pagodas, but
they burned down within a few years. I asked my guide about a
theory, and she said yes, the problem was that they hadn't
invented lightning rods for their big wooden buildings. At
Todai-ji I was amused to see a big crowd of people all waiting to
rub the lucky buddha's belly. I'd heard of that, but never seen it
before. I also spotted a wooden
statue that people rub for good health--this didn't seem like
a very good deal for the statue. Then we visited another temple,
where they annually hold the nationally televised fire ceremony,
which involves carrying big torches into the extremely flammable
wooden temple (huh?), and yes they set the temple on fire a few
years ago and had to scramble to put it out. We then visited
Kasuga-taishi, a huge shinto shrine decorated with hundreds
(thousands?) of stone lanterns. I missed the lantern-lighting
ceremony by one day. The temple's forested grounds would have been
beautiful when illuminated by all of those lanterns.
Moi, posed in front of the tiniest pagoda of the day:
Daibutsuden hall at Todai-ji, the world's largest wooden building,
75% smaller than the original and no less impressive for it:
A large firm wanted to donate a massive metal pagoda (with an
elevator to the observation deck), but the temple chose instead
only to accept the big metal spire from the top. All pagoda spires
represent nine umbrellas. Nine is the largest single number we
have, and umbrellas represent protection, so the spire shields the
pagoda from harm. (Especially these days since that's probably
where they put the lightning rods.):
In the annual fire ceremony they carry the torches up that
sheltered staircase on the left before waving them from the
balcony of the main building:
A row of lanterns at Kasuga-taishi, an important shinto shrine. My
guide explained to me that shinto is the preferred religion of the
emperor (himself a shinto deity) and of the commercial classes.
Buddhism appeals more to the "common people." For this
reason the shinto shrines are much better funded than the buddhist
shrines. At this temple each new lantern is donated by a company
or a wealthy individual, and people pay to have devotional paper
screens with selected prayers placed in the windows of the
lanterns during the lantern-lighting ceremony. This is a very
well-funded temple. That said, it used to be the rule that all
shinto shrines were torn down and rebuilt every 20 years. As I
mentioned before, purity is very important in Japan, and after 20
years of use the shrines were considered too dirty to attract the
deities. However, even with all this funding, that practice has
faded. It would be very expensive!
To purify yourself at Kasuga-taishi you can use the water from
this fountain. Since it's pouring out of a straw in that deer's
mouth, it doesn't look particularly pure to me, but...:
This must be a beautiful sight when those vines are in bloom! On
the supporting structure you see strings with little white bits on
them. The white bits are fortunes purchased at the shrine and
discovered to have disappointing predictions. As I mentioned
earlier, the custom is to tie these bad fortunes to a tree, or I
guess to a bit of string, rather than carry them with you.
The restaurant my guide introduced me to for lunch was my first
taste of okonomiyaki, a pancake with cabbage, pickled ginger, meat
of your choice (mine was bacon), and topped with sweet sauce,
powdered seaweed, and fish powder. You even get to cook your own
okonomiyaki right at your table. Except that I didn't know what I
was doing so the nice old lady cooked mine for me. It was very
tasty.
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Tuesday
February 5th |
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Went to
Himeji to see the remarkable Himeji-jo castle. It's the most
beautiful and well-preserved castle in Japan. Built about four
hundred years ago, it was an important structure during the Shogun
era. The Shogun who first united Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was an
early occupant in the late 1500s. I returned to Kyoto and bought
four scroll paintings at the antique shop I found on Sanjo Dori.
Also picked up three Maneki Neko statues.
I arrived at the Himeji train station and then just walked
straight up main street to the castle, which continues to loom
over the town even as it has turned into a big, grey industrial
city.
The main castle gate:
From the inner courtyard the castle is still looming away, but it
felt more appropriate inside the walls:
This is what the castle grounds used to look like:
Inside the castle walls I spotted this funny contraption. What's
that?
Oh... that's a Stone Throwing Hole!
Later on I caught a glimpse of the business end of a Stone
Throwing Hole:
And check out the pretty shapes on the business end of the arrow
slits:
Each spine of the roofing tiles carried the family crest of the
castle lord at the time that period of construction was completed.
Here's a collection of all of the crests that appear on the
castle, which served many families in its time. On the upper left
is the crest of the Hideyoshi family. One crest that doesn't
appear here is a Christian cross, which was chosen as a crest in
the mid-1500s by a lord who had converted. This was so fascinating
to a Japanese man I ran into that he waved me enthusiastically
over to him, pointed up at the cross and said, "Jesus
Christ!"
Closing in on the inner-most courtyard. The castle grounds had a
very complicated series of courtyards and gates designed to
confuse and expose any attacking forces.
Inside the inner courtyard! I actually climbed all the way to the
top of the castle. There I caught a view of the very threatening carp gargoyles that decorate the
points of the roof peaks. I also learned that several years ago
the entire castle had been dismantled, piece-by-piece, and
reassambled with repairs and a few structural modifications to
make it earthquake-proof. The inside of the castle is now a museum
containing examples of armor worn by the lords as well as examples
of their poetry and calligraphy.
On the way out I checked out the "Hara-kiri Courtyard."
In that recess on the lower floor of the far building there is a
stage-like area with a platform behind it. It's thought that the
unfortunate man committing suicide would disembowel himself on the
stage while his second waited behind him on the platform and
finished the job with a swift (snicker-snack) decapitation.
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Wednesday
February 6th |
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Traveled
to Hiroshima by bullet train. Got kicked out of the reserved
section, which I didn't realized was reserved-sometimes it's
confusing being the big dumb gaijin. "Gaijin" means
"foreigner" in Japanese, and Chris's co-worker taught us
how to say "big dumb gaijin" in Japanese: "dekai
bakana gaijin". (My friend Akira later claimed to be a "chisai
bakana nihonjin," which means "little dumb Japanese
guy".) Actually, BDG (big dumb gaijin) is an important
concept in Japan. The Japanese follow lots of rules for every part
of their lives. It's quite important for them to follow those
rules to remain in good standing with their co- workers,
classmates, and heck-even with the other people on the subway. But
if you're not from Japan, you're just a "big dumb
gaijin"! Of course you don't know the rules, so the Japanese
are really nice about it when you stumble around and screw
everything up. The truth is that their willingness to put up with
you goes too far. You can be a total bufoon in Japan, and they'll
still be tolerant of you. So this means there are two big dangers
for a gaijin living in Japan: danger 1) if you try to learn to be
truly Japanese, studying the language and mastering the customs,
you'll be shut out because their is no tradition of accepting
foreigners into the Japan "club"; danger 2) since they
tolerate you acting like a big bufoon, we saw some ex-pats who had
made a habit of treating people less respectfully, and generally
behaving worse, than they would ever have done in their home
country. Although I really like and respect Japan and its people,
this is one of a number of reasons why I would definitely not like
to live or work there for an extended period of time.
My hotel in downtown Hiroshima looked right down on the Peace
Park, the Peace Museum, and the A-Bomb Dome (lower right), which
was located very close to the hypocenter of the explosion.
My first stop after my hotel was just across the bay to Miyajima
island, which hosts the beautiful Itsukushima shinto shrine with
its floating torii gate. While there I also visited the municipal
history and folklore museum, which had many examples of local
crafts and tools. After that I climbed to the top of the island,
enjoying great views and quiet shrines in the forest.
Unfortunately, I was pushing it on time as sunset closed in. I
missed the last cable car down at dusk, and ended up racing down
in the half-light to avoid being stuck in total darkness. Whoops!
The floating torii gate, with Hiroshima in the background across
the water:
A view of the torii gate from inside Itsukushima shrine:
Itsukushima shrine:
A view of the shrine and the city from half-way up to the mountain
top:
I call this: Self-Portrait with Eyelids. (Subtitle: the danger of
using the camera timer to take your own picture.)
This was a slightly more succesful effort with the camera timer:
Then I spotted this beautiful mountain-side shrine:
Out of breath from my race to the top I grabbed this celebratory
photo:
After missing the last cable car I had to run down in the
half-light. But I was greeted with a beautiful view of the torii
gate at dusk:
And this:
Had dinner at an okonomiyaki restaurant, where the Japanese wait
staff / cooks thought it was pretty funny to meet an American. We
had a great time chatting, using my survival Japanese skills and
their survival English, and they even let me practice making
okonomiyaki. In Kansai (Kyoto, Nara, Osaka)-style okonomiyaki, you
cook your own okonmiyaki, but in Hiroshima-style the food is
different, consisting of a crepe-like pancake, then soba noodles,
then the cabbage/egg mixture, and they always cook them for you.
So it was very fun. As a going-away present they gave me, with
great ceremony, a pair of wooden chopsticks.
On my way home from dinner, passing through the Peace Park, I saw
this eerie view of the A-Bomb Dome:
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Thursday
February 7th |
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I
visited the Peace Museum. It was worth the visit, and it was truly
shocking and disturbing in the displays of the bomb's effects on
the suvivors as well as those killed in the blast. There's even a
preserved collection of the many skin tumors that were removed
from many survivors. One other item worth mentioning is a quote I
read on one of the historical explanations. Before the bombing,
when Japan's eventual defeat was expected but only after a US
invasion of the home islands, a Japanese general called publicly
for "100 million deaths with honor." That is, he thought
it was acceptable to send every man, woman and child in Japan to
their death before surrendering to avoid an inevitable defeat.
The last item to mention is a very poignant memorial clock in the
lobby of the museum. The clock starts at the top of a four-foot
column. There it moves a gear. The gear moves faster if there has
been a nuclear test or a nuclear attack recently (and the days
since each of those is displayed on the clock). That top gear
turns a gear below it, at a ratio of about 10:1 or 20:1. That
second gear turns a third, which turns a fourth, for a total of
about ten gears (and I guess around a 10,000,000,000:1 ratio). The
last gear is embedded in concrete. It cannot turn. So if the clock
is kept moving, it will eventually grind the gears together
completely against that last gear, which will literally tear the
clock apart. And the more tests and attacks we see, the more the
world is put at risk of nuclear armageddon, the sooner the clock
will self-destruct as well.
That afternoon I caught the shinkansen back to Tokyo, and even
managed to find the right car this time. After dinner we hit the
town until moderately late.
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