Perfect Weekend

In an effort to explore the local sights in our own backyard, Hong-san and I set out Saturday afternoon to see the sight that is Inuyama Castle, an attraction that is not only the oldest standing castle in all of Japan, but is also only a 20-minute drive from her house. I'm not quite sure how I've lived here for almost eleven months but haven't been there yet. It does seem, though, that it takes the longest to see the things that are right in your own backyard. For example, I live in the USA and I haven't even been to Canada. Now, I know what you're thinking: Canada is crawling with Canadians. Trust me, I am well-aware and that's why I've successfully avoided it thus far. Inuyama Castle, as far as I knew it, was free of Canadians, so I considered it a safe destination for a visit.

Before I bore you with yet another lecture about a castle, I will hold my tongue. Suffice to say, though, Inuyama Castle is one of the few in Japan that didn't A) Get bombed to smithereens in World War II, B) Get destroyed by an opposing warlord before that, C) Burn to the ground (they're wood, dont'cha know), D) Get toppled during an earthquake, or E) Get torn down by the government during the Era of Tom Cruise (also known as the Meiji Restoration). This bad boy, like a handful of others throughout the country, is a survivor.

One distinctive feature of the castle is it's size. It's massively, grandly, imposingly small, and, as my boss told me when describing it, "You won't believe it's a National Treasure, it's so small." Well, he wasn't lying, but I believed it anyway.
























The view from the top of it was just world-class. It is situated right above the Kiso River on a lovely little hill, and you could see for miles in every direction. Normally, climbing the stairs of a castle is a long and strenuous ordeal, and when you finally reach the top, you are so annoyed you just don't care. But with this one, the whole climb took maybe 3 minutes, so we bounced into the top, red-carpeted room of the castle full of energy. It looked like someone's bedroom, with the plush carpet and lots of framed photos. On either side was a door leading out to a lovely walkaround balcony from which you could see everywhere. It was so much nicer than the tourist shops and wire screens that we saw at the top of so many other castles. This one felt so bite-sized and personable. Plus, where else could you walk all around a National Treasure in your bare feet? What a feeling. I'd love to walk around the Tower of London with no shoes on. I don't think so.



The view of the Kiso River and Hong's city of Kakamigahara, across the river in Gifu Prefecture:


Late afternoon sun reflecting off the Kiso-gawa:


The fourth floor of the castle:


While I was outside waiting for Hong, I saw some young people trying to take a picture of themselves all jumping in front of the castle. They were propping the camera up and trying to time their jump with the countdown timer. As a photographic enthusiast, I knew it was hopeless. I offered to take it for them, and they were very much surprised and happy. They spoke a lot of English and we all took a picture together in front of the castle. They looked pretty "different," man. They were awesome!



Hong and I had a similar experience with some nice Japanese ladies visiting the castle, and we exchanged picture-taking with them as well. We left the castle with a feeling of goodwill. Coming to this nice place at the best time of day, right before closing, and sharing it with only a few other people was very special. After viewing the castle, we found a good spot in the park and sat down and had ourselves a fine picnic. I don't want to get gushy, but I really like having picnics with Hong. I don't think it gets any better than this.



Later that night, we went to what I thought was to be a firefly festival. In actuality, it was a place where people usually go to see fireflies this time of year. Hong and I took the train a few stops and then headed off through the rice fields, car dealerships, and convenience stores in search of the little buggers. Of course, on the way there, we encountered about 9 million of her students, who were way excited to see their "Hong-chan" (Sort of like "Miss," but for younger girls). They took one look at sweaty, just-drank-a-beer Jay and asked "Boyfriend?" Hong said, "No, no, friend." I corroborated, knowing that only if these kids had in fact been born yesterday would they not think I was her boyfriend.



We had numerous difficulties finding the place in the dark, and it was only after we made a wrong turn that Hong finally informed me that it was not a festival but just a marsh where fireflies happen to hang out. I was a bit disappointed, but we were more determined than ever to find this place. Finally, after some text messaging and careful re-reading of cryptic directions, we got on the firefly trail with everybody else. Tons of cars plied the narrow roads, and as we got closer and closer, the din of people and cars increased. As we walked along an irrigation ditch, we finally saw little balls of light. The people were pointing into the ditches and saying "Wow." I was a little afraid that this was it, but we trudged on into the darkness until the houses faded and the sounds of cars did too. After a while, we were all alone in the darkness together, walking through the woods with fireflies all around us. Families and children ran everywhere, kids trying to catch them and some grown-ups trying to take pictures of them. "Futile," I was thinking. Why try to capture something so fleeting? I guess they hoped deep-down that it would help them remember.

The night had a surreal, beautiful air to it. The cool air, dark trees, croaking frogs in the rice paddies, and the few lanterns of the lone building combined with the vast emptiness and the beauty of the fireflies to create a surreal scene. Hong and I sat on a bridge for a long time, watching the fireflies and eating a watermelon. It took me back a little bit to when I was a kid and would chase and catch the fireflies at my uncles' and grandmother's houses in Virginia. Mostly, though, the night reminded me of nothing. It was a totally new experience to be out in these unfamiliar fields with a bunch of strangers all looking at fireflies. At times, I got a little annoyed with the people for talking so loud. I felt like it spoiled the mood, but it was so nice that almost no amount of talking could ruin it for me. Hong and I caught a few fireflies, and one even hitched a ride on her shirt for quite a while. Finally, we said good-bye to the fireflies and headed home.

The next day, Sunday, we awoke in just enough time to be late to our doll-making class at 10:30. A Japanese lady has been teaching foreigners around here how to make paper dolls for years, and when we showed up at her beautiful, three-story house, she pointed us up to the top. It was my first time in a modern Japanese house, so I was pretty interested in it. It was damn nice. By the time we reached the third story, I was beginning to feel like I was on my way to a sweatshop, though. I didn't hear the expected din of the other doll-makers, only silence. Finally, we emerged through a tiny door into a small space filled with my peers, craft supplies, and ornate display cases holding delicate paper dolls.

I won't bore you with the details, but Hong said it would be easy, and it was hard. We spent about 6 hours working on the dolls, which entails starting with a pile of beautiful, differently-patterned washi paper and constructing it into a three-dimensional doll. It was good fun, sitting around on the 3rd floor of the lady's house, all pestering her with annoying questions about whatever part of the process we were on. I think I'll go again.

My seatmate, Kaki, with her doll, my doll's twin:























Hong with her prized Samurai's daughter:























My first effort. Much credit is due to those who helped me. Without them, this doll would be having major image problems.
















I had opted to make the more simple, half doll mounted on a board (more suitable for beginners), but after looking at it, I decided it looked as if the daintily-clad woman had been strolling along in her kimono when she walked into a brick wall. I opted instead for the much more challenging doll, the samurai's daughter. Strangely enough, my truly amateur status helped me to get the best doll possible that day. The lady did a lot of the really important folds and shaping of the doll, so I was spared any really embarassing f-ups. My fellow foreign doll-makers offered numerous assistances, as well, especially my seat-mate, Kaki, who, I'm embarassed to say in light of my earlier comments, is Canadian (she's very nice, though). I'd like to think I put a bit of myself into the doll, though. I chose the color combinations and the posture, and I'm quite happy with how it came out. And no, the ability to choose pleasing and dynamic kimono combinations on dolls does not make me less of a man. I say More, if anything























All in all, I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. A nice hefty dose of local culture plus some quality time with my lady. I'm still pinching myself sometimes to see if it's real.

Goodnight, everybody.

Across the Sea in Korea

When I think of Korea, all I can think of are spicy food and gruff looking people, and my, how I want to go back. We packed so many adventures there into one week, it almost defies the imagination. Well, actually, I seem to recall spending the last 2 days in my comfy hotel room, watching very interesting and enthusiastically frenetic Korean television (with free, nonstop porn on channel 100...check it out). So that means that the adventures must have been squeezed into only 5 days. Not bad, eh?



We happened to run into one of those impromptu cultural dance/drumming/harp/plate balancing/head twirling shindigs that one finds from time to time in the cities of the world, and Hong couldn't resist dressing up in the free royal attire provided for aspiring monarchettes like ourselves. Now, I am a civilized person, and so I adamantly refused to don this ridiculous garb, but said I'd take her picture. After seeing some guy and his wife put the stuff on, though, I knew there was no choice. We were photographed by, oh I don't know, about 25 or 50 people. I certainly hope we brightened up their vacation photos. "Hey, look at these weirdo white people [editor's note: only I am white]. Wtf, mate!"

All said, Korea was a fascinating place. Reading up on the country before we left, I went through a sort of mental confirmation everytime I would read some little cultural tidbit in the Lonely (Lying) Planet guidebook: "Yep, got that. Same as Japan." In everything from drinking to education to technology to fashion to just ridiiiiculous uses of the English language, the countries seemed like clones. I was really expecting to find a sort of shinier, newer cousin of Japan over there across the sea. I was a bit wrong.

If I could describe Korea most efficiently, it would be to say it's as if Vietnam and Japan had a child. Stepping off the bus into the heart of Seoul, the streets had the street markets and unkempt, wild nature of Asia, but present also were the restrained politeness and orderliness of which Japan is so proud.



The stories of Korea and Japan are a bit similar, in that both countries have 5 letters in their names and that most people can't tell their citizens apart. Their histories have actually been intertwined for millenia, much like Canada and the USA. A lot of the ancestors of today's Japanese migrated from the Korean peninsula (don't tell them!), and it was also a source of a lot of cultural exchange and influence during the formative years of Japan's civilization. Both countries fall firmly in what experts (for our purposes, me) like to call the "East Asian Cultural Sphere," and as such share many common cultural links with each other and with their friend China, such as the use of Chinese characters (although in daily use it has been replaced in Korea by a phonetic one...you know, all those circles?), a strong Confucian and Buddhist influence in society, black hair, and a tendency to eat at McDonalds. All of these things together ground them in a common culture, from where they can build bigger, better bridges to the future. Mostly electronics, though.

The important thing to remember about Korea, therefore, is that it's OLD! I feel like China and Japan really get the lion's share of attention in the whole Asian tourism thing (exclusing SE Asia, or 'The Marijuana Belt' as I call it), but man, Korea has got the stuff! We saw sublime palaces from the Joseon dynasty, stunning, lush gardens, ancient ruins that would knock your socks off. Coming from Japan, my only thought was, how did I not know about this? These photos are from assorted palaces in Seoul. There are 3 main ones, and they are all just fantastic. The locations of the palaces were chosen according to the advice of geomancers, who made sure that the buildings were in tune with the forces of the world and facing the right direction and that they were in an auspicious location. The guys did a nice job. They were just lovely, backed up against the hills in Seoul.

The restored palace of Gyeongbok-gung (my employers destroyed the first one):

The 'Secret Garden' at Changdeok-gung Palace. It was wonderful.

A pool at the Jongmyo Shrine, where the souls of former kings and queens are cared for:
.

Wow, I hate to say it, but I'm too tired to go on. I'll continue this soon.

Little Bits of Japan

Here are some little pieces of what I see all the time. It seems so utterly familiar now that it doesn't even feel like a foreign country.

Mt. Ena, my local mountain:


The view from the train:


Karaoke. Love it. Never thought I would.


Stuff like this on the side of video game machines:


The vending machines are world unto themselves here.


Some more nice vending bottles:


Anyone for green tea?

The Sweet Life

Greetings, Dear Readers

Now that summer is here, things couldn't get much sweeter. The grass is green, the sky is blue (and occasionally ominously gray and wet), and yours truly has shaken off the frigid malaise of winter to glory and bask in the sunny wonder that is being at large in the world at 23.

Things have been on the up around Nakatsugawa. I used to complain about the town's lack of, err, urban charms, but after a firm attitude adjustment on my part in which I decided that I was never going to be happy to come home after the weekends unless I had something to come home to, I am happy to call it home. Somewhere a few months back, I endeavored to take a bigger bite of the local community and see what it had to offer. The results have been good.

My calendar went from empty to full pretty fast, and I'm liking it. I now teach private English classes twice a week at the local Mitsubishi factory. We talk about things like efficiency and ventilation fans and also where you can find cheap ramen. I must say, teaching engineers is a little more stimulating than teaching 16-year olds, but I can't complain.

Another positive development has been my joining of a taiko group. For those of you who don't know, taiko is a traditional type of Japanese drum that they used to use for many things, including scaring the opposing armies in warfare and also for Mitsubishi commercials. Sometime around 50 years ago, some enterprising fellow saw all these ginormously oversized drums sitting around everywhere and thought, surely there must be a way to play these in huge synchronized groups. He was right.

My particular taiko group is affiliated with a local junior high school, and as such I outrank even its most senior member by about 7 years. No matter. We have practices every weekend for about 4 hours each day, and I must say, it's HARD! Remembering the rhythms and transitions is a particular difficulty for me. My mind is not so pliable and trap-like as it was when I was an ambitious high school student, and I swear I forget half of what I learn every day. Although, I shouldn't be so hard on myself, as the instructions are coming in Japanese, a language which has well-documented frustrations for me.

At least the kids are pretty nice. On the first day, they all stared at me in that way that says, "Wtf, why is this guy in our taiko group? He's huge and foreign." No matter that: I am totally unphased by this stage in the relationship! That gradually morphed into a sort of shy, befuddled look whenever I speak to them. Now, I can almost get actual smiles from some. I think I'm always good for a laugh whenever they want to feel smart, as pretty much everything I do has some sort of ridiculous air of incompetence when I'm at taiko practice, even when it doesn't involve drumming. Just in picking drums, I found out I'd been stealing other people's taikos because I hadn't been properly reading the labels. They promptly ran off to the storage shed to get me my own, tightened and tuned it for me (no small task), and presented me with a label to claim it as my own. I wrote my name in Japanese letters, but they insisted I write it in English. I think they thought it was cooler that way.

When we're practicing as a group and I f-up some part of the sequence (which is often, though I must note that the other beginners make many mistakes as well, as do some of the seniors of the group), the seniors dispatch one another in shifts to go sit down in front of my drum and beat it with me to help set my pace. I must thank them for that. Even the gruff-looking 8th-grader who just calls me "foreigner" (I call her "Japanese") sat down with me for the better part of an hour to make sure I understood the beats. Very nice.

To top off the goodness all around, my much-beloved mountain bike showed up from home a few days ago, and its arrival has been like the centerpiece that gelled all the positive developments going on around me. I've been riding it all around the rice fields, shrines, highways, and back alleys of town since Friday, and it's been something like pure bliss coasting through the air on its silky smoothness. I never thought I could be so happy to be on a bike.

Goodnight from the fields,

Jay T.