Back in April the Kawaii Girls and I headed out on a train to a cherry blossom festival on the grounds of Shomyoji Temple, near Kanazawa Bunko station . I couldn't decide on which photos to post, I literally took hundreds, so I will let the photos do most of the talking and leave my words to a minimum.
These are two things that WTF Husband laughs at...that I suffer from a disease that renders me useless in making simple decisions, such as taking hours to choose photos for a blog that someone spends a quick minute on before moving onto the next, and that I would actually let something do the talking for me.
Well you see WTF Husband I don't always have to talk (or type). I can let things stand on their own. I don't feel a need to narrate everything to within an inch of its life. I mean, really, why would you think I needed to talk, just to hear myself? I am perfectly capable of letting the beauty of the photos shine without setting them up with a backstory or a funny anecdote. See, I can do it. Just you wait. Really. I can do it.
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Ajiga-ike, or the "Pond of Letter A" and the Main Hall of the temple.
Kawaii Girl #1 pounding mochi and then sampling it. That was some sticky rice, it was stuck to us for hours.
These sweet kids walked all over the festival grounds. Aren't they so...well, kawaii? On more than one occasion we popped for a ¥50 cone of popcorn. A sakura cookie, that's a real cherry blossom inside, given to us by the sweet lady that showed us around the grounds.
On our walk back down to the train station I noticed people kept stopping at this house and looking up at it, like Brangelina were on their way down. Seems very non-descript to me but I thought maybe this is were Shiego Tokuda lived. He is famous unlike anyone in the states.
Alright WTF Husband, maybe I can't help myself...but that's half of my charm!
With a little dutch courage down my throat I found myself contemplating unleashing my inner tone def self...and with a whole lotta dutch courage, I found myself deep in the waters of bad, really bad, singing. Karaoke is such a quintessential Japanese experience I couldn't concern myself with the bleeding ears of my fellow karaoke singers.
Karaoke is arguably the most popular social activity in this country. Salarymen visit after work to loosen their ties and drown away their stresses in free flowing biiru and J-Pop. Taken so seriously by some, professional karaoke coaches are employed to help transform the talentless to that of the best of an average American Idol contestant...wait, aren't they all average?
My girlfriends and I visited a karaoke box カラオケボックス, el Notes down on Blue Street. We had our own private room, kitted out with karaoke paraphernalia-microphones, tv video machines and tambourines no less. For ¥2800, the room was ours for an hour and a half and included all-you-can-drink top shelf liquor, though I found the gin and tonic to be more like tonic and tonic. The biiru was surely tasty though and I knocked back my fair share.
Before the singing even started, we were treated to a prelude of what was to come later in the evening??? I don't really know what the heck it was, it was a laughable mixture of the hilarious and the disturbing. That was one drunk panda!
I've got video of my singing prowess, and it is truly spectacular, but now that the alcohol is no longer diluting my blood stream and unless it's 5 o'clock as you read this, it shouldn't be running through yours either, so there is no reason to subject you to the deafening notes that came from my voice. Pictures will have to suffice. I will say that my favorite song to sing was Baby Got Back by Sir Mix Alot and the best showcase of my talent was Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks. And for all my Memphis gals, I closed the night with In the Ghetto by none other than Elvis himself.
Singing it however was a little like guessaoke. I thought I knew the words by heart until it was time to sing it and the words escaped me despite them being on the screen. And there was a little shareaoke, where I tag teamed my way through a song and wandered around the room with the microphone like Wayne Newton and even a song or two of sweariaoke, were some of the lyrics got turned around and we cussed just for the hell of it.
It was a ridiculously fun evening, so much so that I am now a card carrying member of el Notes! To Daisuke Inoue, the man who invented karaoke, thank you for being as tone def and musically inept as me and giving the world over such a good time.
Am I the only one who misses Paul Harvey? And now for the rest of the story...
The last stop on the 3:10 to Tokyo took us to Asakusa, a district in Tokyo, most famous for the Senso-ji temple and neighboring Asakusa Shrine. There is a whole lotta holiness happening on these grounds. Shrines and temples and pagodas oh my! I'm going to keep this post short because while there is so much history and significance to these grounds, I barely experienced it because of the throngs of people loping around.
Nakamise-dōri is a street on the approach to the temple. Shop owners were allowed to come in to the area in the 18th century. The length of the street is approximately 250 meters and contains around 89 shops and on a weekend, such as our trip, good luck seeing anything. I saw a woping 2 of those shops. This is not a street for strolling, at least not for gaijins holding on to little hands for dear life.
Nisonbutsu (A pair of Buddha). The figure on the right is said to bring mercy on worshipers and the figure on the left, wisdom.
The Hōzōmon 宝蔵門,is the inner of two large entrance gates that lead to the Senso-ji. The gate features three large lanterns. The largest and most prominent lantern is a red chōchin提灯 that hangs under the center of the gate's opening. The lantern displays the name of the town Funamachi 小舟町, who donated it.
The urn contains ashes and is used to burn paper wishes. The wishes are purchased at the temple and then placed in the urn, while praying that the wish many come true.
Tōrō, originally used to mean any lantern, has come to mean a lamp of stone, bronze, iron or wood. They are used to illuminate the grounds of temples, shrines and gardens. Many of these still use oil and candles while others have given way to the lightbulb.
Goju-no-Tu, the Five Story Pagoda, is another center of worship on the site. The pagoda contains the ashes of memorial tablet of the Buddha.
Beautiful architecture and paper lanterns lining the approach to the shrine.
A little thing like having WTF Husband MIA isn't going to stop this girl about town from seeing...well, the town. Metropolis actually. The Kawaii Girls, two of them, one of me, left our little corner of the world, boarded a bus and headed to Tokyo.
Since I'm all for a laugh, I'll let you all in on a little secret...I've been known to get carsick before, sadly, I've even employed the little paper bag stowed in your seat back pocket on an airplane (that is a whole embarrassing story of its own). There was just something about this bus ride up to Tokyo that put me in a tailspin. I tried to channel every mind over matter technique I know but still found myself in the toilet on the bus. There was no place to stand, bend over and loose it. So there I sat, hovered over a cup sized sink, washing my Raisin Bran down the drain.
Once I had my sea legs back, I found myself at the Meiji Shrine明治神宮. This Shinto shrine is an oasis in the middle of a Tokyo concrete jungle. 175 acres of an evergreen forest, a shrine like no other here. If you hadn't paid attention to the traffic you drove through to get there, or, ahem...if you were hanging out in the toilet like I was, you would have no clue you were in the world's most populous city, and in a very fashionable part of Tokyo no less. Harajuku is just a short walk away.
This shrine was destroyed by Allied bombing in 1945. Public donations rebuilt the shrine in 1958 and it is now the most heavily visited place in Japan during New Year's. Over 3 million people gather to worship and celebrate, buying good luck charms, or happy charms, for the year ahead.
This torii gate is the biggest wooden torii of the Myojin style. It's 12 meters tall and a bit over 9 meters between the two pillars. Torii gates mark the transition from the the normal, impure world of the outside to the sacred world of the shrine.
The act of passing underneath a torii, along with washing your hands and mouth with water, is an act of sanctification and purification. Harae 祓 is the general term for Shinto purifications. It removes sins, bad luck, disease and guilt. If you are in a state of uncleanliness you are not permitted in a Shinto shrine to pray. Sounds a lot like things we do in the Catholic faith.
These small wooden placks are called Ema 絵馬, which worshipers write their prayers and wishes on. They are left hanging so the kami (gods) later read them. If the wish comes true, the person hangs another ema at the shrine in gratitude.
Sake 日本酒 is often consumed as part of Shinto purification rituals and during ceremonies. Sake brewers will donate barrels of sake to shrines for use during these events. You will see empty decoration barrels displayed at shrines. A great read on the spiritual significance of sake and these beautiful barrels.
A display case of omamori お守り for sale. They are little cloth envelopes that hold a piece of paper or wood with a variety of prayers written on them, bringing the bearer good luck or warding off bad. Recall my blog post about keitai straps, omamori are often hung on cellphones or in cars for safety during travel. If they are opened, they are said to lose their protective abilities and are normally replaced every year.
No fantastic explanation of the history behind these shots. I just marvel at the architecture and artistry.
We were fortunate enough to be witness to a Shinto wedding ceremony. Here is video of the processional after the ceremony. You can here one of the Kawaii Girls talking about God. It was quite amazing and I found it to be very spiritual.
This is enough to digest for one day. Stayed tuned for 3:10 to Tokyo - part two and part three.
Even on a tree lined street leading to the McDonald's, you will find Sakura trees with blooming cherry blossoms. Not quite the most serene of locations but a Big Mac sure tastes good sitting under such beauty.
In Japan, cherry blossoms are more than just a pretty flower to look at. They are symbolic of the Buddhist's belief in the transience of life, nothing but a fleeting speck of sand in the time table of existence.
With great anticipation, each February national agencies publish forecasts based on historical data and current weather trends to narrow down the blooming time. The area I live in is forecasted for March 25, today. And they are pretty darn close. Many trees are approaching full bloom, while others are just starting to show their buds.
Cherry blossom viewing, known as hanami 花見, has been a Japanese custom since the 7th century. All throughout Japan, large cities and small countryside towns come out en masse to revel.
In reading about the history of the cherry blossom I came across the Japanese proverb, hana yori dango 花より団子, which literally means dumplings rather than flowers...practicality over aesthetics. No surprise the preferred food eaten during hanami is the dango, a slightly sweet dumpling. The cherry blossom, for all its beauty and charm, provides the perfect occasion to have a giant party full of good eats and free flowing spirits.
Cherry blossoms are looking sweeter than ever. Where's my Sapporo, I'm headed out to celebrate!
I opted to take human anatomy and physiology in high school, thinking physics wasn't going to be my thing. I have a nagging feeling that I am soon to learn one of the undisputed laws of physics. Am I in a bubble and is it about to burst? I'm not talking about the housing market either.*photo courtesy of Photoshop Phursday and no McDonald's doesn't look like that in Japan.
Why haven't I experienced culture shock? I would kind of like to get it out of the way. It has been 6+ weeks since I arrived in Japan and it strikes me every few days that I feel so completely normal and comfortable here. It is becoming my mantra when people ask me how I am liking it in Japan. "Just great, I feel so completely normal and comfortable here," I say with my trademark toothy smile. This is peculiar given that my house is pure chaos...between the boxes that I frankly am not interested in unpacking at the moment, despite them dangerously teetering on the top step, the kawaii girls who have reached a new level of unruliness and the fact that WTF Husband is no where in sight. Okay, those actually aren't abnormalities in my household, that's pretty much the norm. Still I wait. Wait, wait, wait. "Oh culture shock, where are you, come out-come out wherever you are."
Given that I am thousands of miles away from home, living in a foreign country...a really foreign country with no less than three strange alphabets...I keep expecting it to hit me. Instead, every time I walk out of the gates of the base, I feel exhilarated and somehow enlightened, like thousands of years of Buddhism is welling up inside of me. I'm living in Disney World only bigger and better. And the goosebumps don't go away. This place I now call home is magical. I love how the streets bustle but in near silence, how the girls behind the counter at Vie de France bakery always giggle and wave to me as I pass by their shop or when I walk in cheerfully greet me by saying "Irasshaimase." I admire the incredible attention to detail, how even at the 100 Yen store, my items are carefully wrapped and taped up in a bag. How the smell of the fish market on Blue Street sort of thrills me instead of repulses. Everything is refreshingly new and exciting and wonderful. I want to hang my laundry on the patio to dry, eat rice and drink tea all day long and go to sleep on a futon.
This is where I wish I took physics. Perhaps if I had studied instead of toe bone connected to the foot bone, foot bone connected to the leg bone (ala Dem Bones,) I could better prepare for the inevitable. What goes up, must come down. The culture shock is out there, lurking behind a street corner waiting to tag me. And so I know I will fall from this culture-high I am on. My bubble will burst and I'll be left in a tiny puddle of shock. Until then I am going to continue to smell the cherry blossoms and think of it as the most intoxicating fragrance ever to pass me by.
I'm aware that I’ve probably committed some blogging sin by not updating for the last 10 days. I really had very good intentions and if it is any consolation I’ve got lots of posts in half-finished states that will be ready for reading eyes very soon but with no real good excuse for my tardiness, let’s just jump into my next topic du jour.
Masks. I’m not talking about traditional wooden Kabuki masks or Noh masks worn during Japanese musical dramas. Cold masks. Outside of an operation room, we don’t see many of these in America, ‘cept for maybe a tradesman not wanting to inhale insulation while finishing off the Jones' basement.
From the moment we boarded our plane bound for Japan, we were introduced to this peculiarity of Japanese culture. When the lady sitting in seat 34F next to us veiled her face with one of these masks, my first reaction was one of defensiveness...no lady my kid ain't going to hack on you, really though, she was just concerned that her germs might permeate the air and infect us.
I suppose regarding it as a peculiarity isn't accurate, but this fork loving family just isn't used to seeing a stranger care so much for the others around them. Herein lies a major difference between our cultures. Japan values the group, the collective whole's interests being placed before the individuals. That isn't to say Japan is some utopia where everyone is in perfect harmony with their neighbor but culturally speaking, it is as if part of their genetic makeup calls them to be concerned for the health and welfare of others, lest group productivity be diminished. Someone has to keep the steady flow Toyota Prius' rolling so Al Gore has something to talk about.
Maybe the Japanese people should just stay at home, negating the need to don one of these cold masks. Perhaps they don't get six sick days a year like we do in America. I always used mine, though I can't honestly say that I was sick all the times I cashed them in. I hope you're not reading this Jonathan. They aren't very flattering to the face and it really could wreak havoc on your makeup. And I just imagine that a runny nose isn't very comfortable behind the cotton cup. And what do you do if you have to cough? If you lift the mask off your face, then what was the point of wearing one, but if you cough into while it is on your face, are you not just circulating the germs your body is trying to rid itself of?
I had to speak to a man just a few days ago wearing one. It kept slipping off his nose and he kept pulling it back up, all the while I kept picturing a portly plumber who pulls up his pants so his crack doesn't show. What was the point, it kept falling off. I wanted to giggle but I thought better of it.
It is such staple of every day life here, they even make really fashionable ones, not just plain boring ones like a pair of tidy whiteys. There are even funny commercials selling them. I'm not sure if it is proper etiquette to remove the mask to ohh and ahh over the tiny black dress in the window display, but apparently when talking to your boss, it is expected to remove it. Isn't that going to get him sick though? Maybe that is the idea, get rid of the boss and then go shopping.
The funniest mask I've seen though is the one worn by a man driving his car...alone. It was my first day driving out in town...beads of sweat percolating on my forehead, a death grip on the steering wheel as I tried to navigate the ridiculously narrow street. When I looked to my left and saw this man, I couldn't help but wonder who was he protecting his germs from? And then I almost took out his rear view mirror. Oops, gomenasai, hope your cold gets better Mr. Mask Man.
As a gaijin, we're already prone to looks from the locals. When we're sick, we ought to be prepared to feel even more gaping eyes on us. People will actually step aside from you, turn two and walk in the opposite direction. I even saw a mother grab her child from the path of a sick person, as if they were going to catch death not the common cold. Feel like a leper much?
Knowing this though, trying to understand the cultural differences, makes living here exciting. I'm sick today and wished I had a mask to wear, to show that while in this country, I can get down with the group like the best of them.
Valentine's Day is a slightly peculiar and ridiculously commercialized holiday in Japan, where the giving and receiving of chocolates has very little to do with the kind of love seen in the classic love story The Way We Were...or in this Brokeback-esque version of Top Gun (no correlation to Valentine's Day, just made me break into a snort or two while laughing).
The rule is simple. Girls give boys chocolates. Period. No girls to girls, no boys to boys. "That would make for nasty surprise for everyone." For an amusing "How to Valentine" Japanese style, check this out.
Valentine's is a twofer in Japan. The chocolate frenzy carries over to March 14 for White Day. It's a confusing mess of obligation chocolates (giri-choko) and love chocolates (honmei-choko). As if women aren't burdened enough, now they have to pass out upwards of 20 to 30 boxes of cheap chocolates to men who they may not even like (which I've been told taste more like waxy plastic than premium chocolate) just because some marketing folks sold them on the idea. And if they don't, men are made to feel embarrased for not receiving any. I don't see this practice catching on in America anytime soon.
Despite thinking Japan's version of Valentine's Day is more bitter chocolate than semi-sweet, it should be said that in the fine Japanese tradition of presentation, the boxes of chocolates are beautiful, even the less expensive giri-choko. Everywhere I ventured today had displays upon displays of their chocolate wares, with the most gorgeous of boxes, tied perfectly with ribbons, with sweet sayings imprinted on them.
If I had stumbled on this, I surely would have bought some. "If both people eat them, there'll be no problem." Makes me miss this from back home.
Where's the Fork will be a depository of all things Japan, from the perspective of the Fegley Four, primarily The Warden, a name bestowed upon me for dolling out half rations to Homer. "No soup for you!" Husband will likely scoff at the idea of being a contributing writer. As in most things, he defers to The Warden when it comes to literary reportage. And of course, this blog will be peppered with jems and one liners from the Kawaii Girls. Here's your first lesson on Japanese pop culture, the meaning of Kawaii.
