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.