Solo No Longer

Hi imaginary readers, I'm actually back in the U.S. now, but thought I'd write a few retroactive posts to finish recording the whole of a fantastic two-month experience.  So without further ado...

Solo No Longer

7/24

That's right, for the last two weeks of my stay in Japan I was reunited with my better, but still legally separate vis-a-vis taxation and government services, half, Sabrina.  She had big plans for visiting Tokyo, some of which we got around to and some of which we didn't. This post will be a collection of sub-posts chronicling our duosome adventures around the Tokyo area.

Kita-Kamakura

One might roll one's eyes at my posting three separate trips to Kamakura, especially considering that other places in Tokyo area get only a single post, if even that.  One might, if one were small-minded and not very nice.  The truth is, Kamakura is an entire city, with an especially rich cultural history.  The once-capital of Japan is now a de facto suburb of Tokyo, but retains some of it past majesty in a spectacular assortment of shrines, temples and other historical sites that line the mountains around the city.  One (no relation to the previously-mentioned, small-minded and not very nice One) may recall that in my first post I took the train straight down into Kamakura station, and then walked the tourist street north to Zeniarai-benten.  In my second, I stayed in Nishi-Kamakura and explored the area west of Kamakura.  This time, we took the train to Kita-Kamakura station to explore the northern part of the city.  The point I'm trying to make is that I never really visited the same place twice, and that visitors to the city might consider renting a room for a night or two to do the entire city justice.

Engaku-ji

Sabrina and I visited three temples close to the station: Engaku-ji (円学寺), Meigetsu-in (明月院), and Jochi-ji (浄智寺).  What I found particularly interesting was that each had its own personality. Maybe you get tired of reading about temples, but I never get tired of visiting them.

The two-story entrance gate to Engaku-ji.  Engaku-ji is an entire complex, with like twenty different buildings on the temple grounds.  It is ranked second among the five great Zen Buddhist temples of Kamakura, which kind of illustrates my earlier point about booking a room.

The dragon adorning the ceiling of one of the largest temples in Engaku-ji.  He looks like he's seen what the Zen Buddhists do when they think no one is watching. His hair looks like Super Saiyan Goku (from Dragon Ball).

One of several Zen gardens, this one observable from the deck of one of several prayer buildings.  Makes you think, doesn't it?  Mostly, I thought about how there is no way that my 300￥ admission fee even covers the maintenance costs of even this one meticulously manicured piece of artificial nature, let alone the rest of the equally beautiful site.

The temple also houses a massive cast-bronze bell dating to 1301 at the top of a very tall staircase that must have been much taller to whoever carried the bell up there.

Meigetsu-in

The name means 'bright moon,' and the temple is most famous for its hydrangea gardens.  It was founded and patronized by the Uesugi clan during feudal and early modern times, and now houses a statue of Uesugi Shigefusa, once the founder of the Uesugi clan and now a national treasure.  It's very different from the grandiose sprawl of Engaku-ji; Meigetsu-in is a tiny property, with only two buildings (not including the toilet) and a modest rock garden.  The paths through the hydrangeas are pretty narrow, which I imagine must lead to crowding during June when the flowers bloom.

Sab on a bridge in Meigetsu-in.  As you can see, the hydrangeas are no longer in season, which may explain why we are the only two visitors to the temple. (Also the temple is about to close.)

Jochi-ji

We visited Jochi-ji ten minutes before they were scheduled to close, which was time for a brisk walk around the temple grounds and a couple of photographs.  

Sabs again.

There's still plenty to do in Kamakura—like visiting great Zen temples one, three, four and five—but that will have to wait for another trip.  On our way out we stopped at a couple of cute fashion shops near the station, and ate some Japanese peaches that were marked down for very good reason.

This post will be absurdly long if I chronicle all of our duosome adventures, so stay tuned for the next installment.

Return to Gifu (City)

Return to Gifu (City)

7/19

Saying you're going to Gifu in Japan is a bit like saying you're going to Washington in the States—there's a certain amount of ambiguity (especially if you don't live in either the PNW or the Chesapeake Bay area) as to whether you're visiting the city or the state.  Gifu is a mountainous prefecture in central Japan, historically significant for its location linking northern and southern Honshu.  Its capital, also named Gifu, is a city of under half a million people, with a moderate tourism draw to historical sites such as the reconstructed sengoku-era Gifu castle.  The mountain town of Takayama to the north also draws a few tourists to its hot springs an historic architecture.

So when I told people in Tokyo that I was spending a weekend in Gifu-shi, I got a few raised eyebrows.  I went to visit my old host family, with whom I stayed for a week when I visited Japan three years ago.  Since then, a lot has happened, including my learning some Japanese.  The Nagayas were very kind to me, and my first experience in Japan largely motivated my effort to learn the language and return.  I travelled to Gifu by kousokubasu (高速バス), or highway bus, and returned by shinkansen (新幹線), the bullet train, about which I will write a separate post if I have time.  

One reason I visited the Nagayas was to observe an important family occasion; out of respect for the family's privacy I won't write about this without their permission.  However, there was some time to explore the city and sample some wonderful food.  

Cormorant Fishing

Gifu has historically been known in Japan for cormorant fishing, which produces high-quality sweetfish from the Nagara river.  A few families still practice the craft, although the industry seems to have more cultural than economic value.  There are at least two museums dedicated to cormorant fishing, which I found mildly interesting.

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The Museum of Modern Cormorant Fishing in Gifu Park.  A fishing boat in the foreground, which includes a sail (not pictured) to bring the boat back to port.  Fishermen attach a lantern to the bow of the ship, which helps birds and people to see and also may draw the fish to the surface of the water.  The fisherman holds leashes wrapped around the necks of up to a dozen birds.  In the background, a twelve-panel washi screen depicting fishermen on the Nagara.

Gifu Castle

Much more exciting (to me, anyway) was Gifu Castle, a late-era mountain castle used as an early stronghold by Oda Nobunaga and reconstructed sometime in the last hundred years.  

As I mentioned earlier, Gifu was an important strategic crossroads during the Sengoku era along the Nakasendo highway linking the Kansai plain (the major cities of Osaka and Kyoto) to northern Japan.  Oda Nobunaga demonstrated this strategic value when he used Gifu Castle as an early home base in his audacious campaign to unify Japan under one rule.  In its heyday in the late 16th century, Gifu Castle would have been one of the last and largest mountain castles in Japan.

The reconstructed keep is accessible by a few formidable-looking hiking trails from the base of the mountain and by an aerial tram that runs between Gifu park at the base and the castle grounds at the top.  Even the view from the tram was spectacular.

Gifu in the calm of a storm.  Near center (green-roofed building) is Gifu Kita high school, where I attended for a week during my first visit to Gifu.

From a dilettante historian's perspective, I found the castle itself slightly disappointing.  It has been destroyed twice—once during the political upheaval accompanying Tokugawa Ieyasu's rise to power, and again during the firebombings of World War II.  As a result, very little remains of the original castle, and the reconstruction seems to have favored appearance over historical authenticity.  The keep has been constructed as a donjon from the outside, but inside is built more or less like a vertical museum, with various collected artifacts lining the walls and a staircase in the center.  Next to the keep is a small museum in the same architectural theme featuring a more artifacts from the sengoku period.  Aside from my disappointment at not being able to explore a true mountain castle, however, the visit more than delivered with a spectacular panoramic view of the city below.

The donjon.

A view from the top of Gifu castle.  In the foreground, the museum of sengoku-era artifacts, containing among other things a fire-clock, which kept the time of day using a line of carefully-measured incense.

Haute Cuisine

Though I promised not to write about family affairs, I feel comfortable—obliged, even—to recall the lunch reception organized by the Nagayas for the extended family.  I think it must be extremely unusual for a guest, especially a foreigner, to be invited to these family events, and the Nagayas were very generous to invite me to attend.  The meal was served in fourteen small courses of many different varieties of Japanese cuisine, pretty to behold and even better to taste.  My favorites were two slices of ootoro (fatty tuna) sashimi, a small grilled shellfish in a mother-of-pearl shell, and a fruit tart dessert which I was probably too full to appreciate completely.  I chatted with Ryousuke, my host brother, and a few of his young cousins about school life in Japan.

J-League!

J-League!
7/11
I hope you all went to 7-11 for me yesterday, because I forgot.  Instead, I experienced the J-league for the first time, which for the uninitiated is the Japanese top-tier soccer league.  A student in one of my Friday classes bought a pair of tickets (at my supervisor's strong recommendation, I suspect) for a Saturday game and invited me to join him for my first (live or otherwise) J-league game!

Dedicated readers may recall that I bought a Yokohama F-Marinos jersey in Harajuku my first weekend here.  Sadly, it will continue to remain only my general-purpose Japanese-person camouflage, as it would have been a major faux pas to break it out for a game between Sagan Tosu and Kashiwa Reysol.  Kashiwa, the home team, is located in Chiba, maybe ten minutes or so by train from Narita airport.  Sagan Tosu is from northern Kyushu.  This means that the fixture was in the middle of goddamn nowhere and one of my farthest expeditions from home in Motosumiyoshi.

I didn't mind the hour-and-a-half train ride because Japan is gorgeous.  Some point along the Joban line must mark the transition from urban to countryside, but it's difficult to say exactly where.  The buildings get smaller and smaller, and then between stations you begin to see paddies, gardens and fields.  At each station though, urbanity returns with industrial buildings, fluorescent-lit street signs and tightly packed shopfronts.  I assumed that our rendezvous at Kashiwa station would be simple, but it was far more crowded than many of the lesser stations close to Tokyo.  Of course, I was so fascinated by the scenery that I forgot I had a camera.

Keita's favorite player is a forward named Toyoda Yohei.  This is the sole reason he supports the club; as I understood, he's never even been to Kyushu.  I imagined this guy must be good, so I bought a towel with his name and number before the game.

My new Sagan Tosu towel!  I collect scarves from teams I support and games I attend.  Interestingly, J-league teams don't sell scarves as a westerner might expect, but rather long, narrow cotton towels.  I imagine this is because the soccer season is in the summer, unlike Europe, and the weather gets really hot, so a washable cotton version makes more sense.

Kickoff, and this guy Toyoda is decidedly mediocre.  Why the other team is so closely marking him I can't imagine.  He plays like Ash Ketchum's Charizard; he has a big, sprinter's body but he barely runs and doesn't really bother to jump for headers.  (If you're not a 90s kid, imagine Didier Drogba on pot.)  Kashiwa are playing Tosu off the pitch; they have full control of the midfield and the wings, while the Tosu defensive strategy seems to be a ragged semicircle on the edge of the penalty box.

It takes about twenty minutes for Sagan Tosu to possess the ball long enough to string a few passes together, and they score on the resulting corner kick.  On the kickoff, a Reysol defender makes a poor pass, which is intercepted and scored by a Tosu midfielder.  About two minutes later, Tosu are again on the counterattack, and Toyoda makes a cutting run through the Kashiwa defense and coolly finishes.  Halftime, and Tosu have scored on three of their four forays into the opposing half, giving them an undeserved but commanding 3-0 lead.

Kashiwa (yellow) take a corner.  This was the only action shot I took during the game, assuming that I would be able to find better on the internet afterwards.  I was wrong; I have no idea where to look for J-league highlights.

I compare Toyoda to high Didier Drogba because he plays like Drogba but lazier.  His role is similar; Toyoda shows bursts of speed when needed and good finishing skill.  On goal kicks and set pieces out of their own half Toyoda is often the target, and is good at holding the ball and playing the Tosu wingers into the corners.  But he's static on defense and inconsistent in the air, contributing to Kashiwa's dominance of the midfield.  After the break he comes alive a bit and wins some balls in the air, but Tosu are parking the bus, especially after the referee awards a penalty for a clumsy challenge on a less-than-threatening Kashiwa run.  The referee does Tosu no favors, doling out three yellow cards for delay of game and a second questionable penalty in the dying minutes.  But, Tosu win, 3-2.

"No Reysol No Life": Reysol fans raise a tifo before the game.  Both teams had enthusiastic fans behind the posts, although they were far more respectful to the referee and to the other team than one could expect pretty much anywhere else.  My favorite chant was Ore ore ore Sagan Tosu ('We are Sagan Tosu') sung to the tune of Green Day's I Wanna Be a Minority, mostly because I could understand it and knew the tune.

Overall I think Tosu deserved to win, if not by their own good finishing then by disastrous performances by the Kashiwa defense and strikers.  Reysol were poor against the counterattack, and their keeper had little to do save (lol) retrieve the ball from his net.  Meanwhile, they sent dozens of crosses into the other box, but few connected and none challenged the Sagan Tosu goalkeeper.  Kashiwa ended with sixty-five percent of possession, keeping us Tosu fans nervous until the final whistle.

(If you're bored, stop here; more soccer analysis to follow)

The J-league plays very differently from the MLS, possibly because of differences in transfer rules.  The MLS is comparatively highly individualistic, with star attackers running rings around hapless defenders.  I imagine this reflects the American aesthetic that sports should be high-scoring, as well as the financial reality of franchises being able to pay a star designated forward but not four or five skilled defenders.  By contrast, Tosu at least had a disciplined defense, and both offenses featured coordinated attacks quite unlike the fractured American game.  I'd prefer the J-league on TV but the MLS in person; you can't beat the drunken exuberance of the Timbers Army.

Enoshima

Enoshima
6/28
'What's Enoshima?' you say.  I'm glad you asked.  Enoshima is a small island southwest of Kamakura, about an hour and change from Kawasaki (that's probably closer to two hours from downtown Tokyo).  It's a popular day trip destination for city-dwellers, especially during the summer.  After staying a night in Kurata-sensei's house, I headed over here to explore.

The island is really small--enough that I walked the entire length of the island and back comfortably in a morning on one of the island's two streets.  There's a bridge for motorists to get to the island, but once there they will have to park and walk, because Enoshima is basically just one large volcanic rock.  There's a series of escalators that will take you to the top of the island for a fee, but I decided my young thighs could use the exercise.  I also brought my five-pound laptop with me for the weekend, which was useful for staying in touch but which I regretted about ten minutes after I found my first set of stairs.

The view of Mt Fuji from the bridge.  Fuji-san doesn't exactly tower over Tokyo like I'd believed for some reason before coming here, but you catch occasional glimpses of it on clear days, which are pretty rare during the rainy season.

The main street, as seen from the bus stop.  It's jammed with tourist shops selling mostly food, drinks, and plastic souvenirs.  This is actually really useful when travelling in Japan, because you'll need omiyage to bring home.  I bought a set of manju (cakes filled with red bean paste), yokan (red bean jelly, about the consistency of electrolysis gels), and local craft beer--wisely, on my way back home.

Despite being so small, Enoshima has in addition to a Buddhist temple at least four distinct Shinto shrines, all (I think) dedicated to Benzaiten, the matron goddess of the island.  This is the shrine off the main path, not painted bright red or filled with expensive souvenirs, and ignored by everyone except the old barefoot caretaker.

Turtle posing heroically on underling turtle.

I ate an apple, mostly just to lighten my backpack, in the company of a hawk (tobi) which I thought was cool until I realized that the island is swarming with them.  If you buy seafood from local vendors (which is highly, highly recommended), they'll tell you to eat quickly and watch for airborne thievery.

The highest point on the island features a botanical gardens, which I didn't go into because gardens are boring, and a Buddhist temple whose gardens I explored because exploring is fun.  Near the shrine below I bought a squid and a clam from a street vendor, who grilled them both in front of me.  They were good.

Me at shrine number four on the far side of the island.  Not pictured: the nearby "lovers' bell," which I found but didn't particularly enjoy because I went to Enoshima by myself.

This shot cost me dearly.  There are proper beaches on the north side of the island, which is sheltered from the pacific, and rocky coast on the far side.

The Iwaya caves are a pair of sea caves located on the south end.  Inside are dozens of granite likenesses of Buddhist deities along with a few more touristy attractions.  Unfortunately, the cave was too dark for many of my photos to turn out well, but here is a print of the five-headed dragon enshrined at Ryokomyoji from last post.  Also, Enoshima is a little-known playable area of Hyrule.

Not an especially interesting photograph, but a great backstory.  Apparently, before the island was developed and the caves commercialized, bioluminescent fauna would come in with the tide and light the caves.  This of course never happens anymore, so they hung a string of Christmas lights over the water with the caption, 'The numerous noctiluca used to inhabit the area while floating the sea [sic] around Enoshima.'  I thought this was great.

Overall, the caves were mildly interesting and arguably worth one entrance fee (￥500) but I can see how the tide pools were more populated.  After the caves I walked back, purchased my omiyage, and fell asleep on one of Enoshima's popular beaches, famous for its windsurfing conditions.  By then a storm was brewing but didn't actually break until I was on the train, which made for a nap of legendary comfortableness.

Probably my best shot. Signing out.

Staying in a Japanese Home

Staying in a Japanese Home
6/27

I mentioned last post that I was invited to stay a night in Kurata-sensei's home in Kamakura.  Here follows my record of my second stay in a Japanese home.

Omiyage
It is polite to bring omiyage, or gifts, when receiving a favor from someone (such as staying at in their home) or when returning from a vacation.  It's sometimes confusing, even with the internet, to navigate omiyage, so I thought I'd offer my thoughts and research.  Some tips and tricks that I've read or heard:

What to give:

• Good gifts are often hard to get in the recipient's area.  For example, if you're visiting from Oregon, bring someone a Willamette Valley pinot noir.  If you take a trip to Kyushu, bring back a local shochu.
• This brings me to my second point, which is that alcohol is a good gift.  Failing that, food will also do.
• Price was tricky to find information on.  One source said more than $10, and less than $50.  Be careful about giving expensive gifts, because this may create an obligation to reciprocate.

Etiquette

• Don't give people of different social standing the same gift.
• Omiyage are usually wrapped, preferably in paper or a bag from the store in which you bought them.  Failing wrapping paper, a gift bag will do.
• Don't give four items as a single gift.  The Japanese for 'four' (shi) sounds like death (shin), and people will interpret the gift as an implied invitation for them to take a full-bodied interest in horticulture.
• Sets of two are considered lucky.
• Try to give the gift in private.
• When giving the gift, it is extra polite to understate the value of the gift.  In any case, identify it as an omiyage, bow, and present with both hands.

One last note is that the value of the gift matters less than the gesture.  Giving a gift shows that you're trying to observe Japanese culture and will try to be a good guest.  That the hosts are doing you a far bigger favor by letting you stay doesn't matter.

Footwear
Yes, indoor footwear is complicated enough that it deserves its own section.  Many readers, especially East Asian, will be unsurprised to read that one wears slippers indoors.  At the entrance to a Japanese home there is generally an area for taking one's shoes off and putting on slippers; this area is often well-defined because there is a step up to enter the rest of the house.  Kurata-san provided me with slippers, but I brought my own just in case.  When taking off slippers, leave them with toes pointing away from the door to allow for easy re-entry.

The practice of changing into indoor shoes isn't limited to Japanese houses.  It's pretty common in schools to change into slippers or dedicated indoor shoes before entering the building proper.  At Toshidai, there are a few areas, such as indoor exercise areas and some older classroom areas, where changing is asked.  For this reason, when visiting Japan, it's best to bring shoes that are easy to slip on and off.

Other rules: don't wear your slippers on the tatami (we'll get to tatami shortly).  Socked and barefoot are both okay in the tatami room.  Also, some houses will have dedicated slippers for the toilets.

Bathroom
Japanese bathrooms are usually separate from the toilets.  This is because Japanese bathrooms are like personal awesome water parks.  I would include a picture, but I think that might be an invasion of privacy.  They probably wouldn't mind (the bathroom is of course pristine), but better safe than rude...  Instead, here is a picture from google images.

A "typical Japanese-style bathroom" (my exact search terms).  The format of the bathroom in both houses I've stayed in has been almost identical.

You will note several features about the bathroom above.  Firstly, there is no shower curtain, nor is there a stall.  Observe the grille next to the bath.  Yes, the entire bathroom is indeed one enormous shower.  You could comfortably fit four screaming kids in this shower, and still have room for water guns and a tired parent.  The floor is at a gentle slope so that water will drain into the grille.

Japanese baths are also different from their western counterparts.  They are especially deep, and come with an insulated cover to like the one shown in the picture.  The cover is important because it keeps the water hot for the entire family, who will use the same bathwater.  Standard operating procedure is to wash oneself in the shower before entering the bath; when visiting a Japanese home, don't get in the bath dirty or soapy.  Also, visitors are customarily invited to bathe first, so don't drain the bathwater.  Remember, the entire family uses the same bath.

Japanese may use the bath to relax, and I've heard that the last person may bathe for an hour or more with a good book (or smartphone).  However, I didn't want to inconvenience the Kurata family by taking too long, so I showered and dressed before the bath was filled.

Tatami
The tatami room has existed in Japanese homes for thousands of years.  Historically, most Japanese homes during shogunal eras were single-room affairs, with screens to divide the room into smaller private partitions.  Even after the advent of modern construction, many Japanese houses, especially larger or wealthier ones, will include a traditional tatami room.

Tatami are large rectangular straw floor mats of about a yard along the short edge and twice that along the long edge.  Interestingly, while the lengths are standardized, the standard differs by region.  There are at least three standard lengths of tatami, which differ by less than ten centimeters.

My sleeping arrangements in the tatami room.  You'll forgive the mess; I rolled out of bed to take this photo and then rolled back.  Notable features include the tatami themselves, the alcove, the paper screens, the futon, and the desk.

Because the length and aspect ratio of the tatami are standardized, a Japanese home's tatami room will come in any of a few dimensions.  I think this room uses a pattern of eight tatami, but I didn't check.

Note a few features of the room.  First, the futon, a dense floor mattress that is really comfortable.  Next, the paper walls.  Visitors staying in a tatami room would be wise to go to bed early; not only do many Japanese rise early, but the screens don't really stop sunlight, so good luck sleeping past seven anyway.  Finally, the alcove, distinguished by a raised table and a short partition made by a pillar of precious wood.  Traditionally, this alcove will be decorated by a Japanese painting or calligraphed poem, and the table may be occupied by a small family shrine or a Japanese flower arrangement.  Tatami rooms will traditionally incorporate each of these elements, so look for them if you're lucky enough to visit a Japanese home!

Footing It Along the Tokaido, Sort of (Kamakura II)

Footing It Along the Tokaido, Sort Of (Kamakura II)
6/27
Sorry ladies and gents, it's been awhile.  To make it up to you, I've got two back-to-back posts for you all, if I can write them.  Last weekend I was invited by one of the professors at Toshidai to stay a night at his house in Kamakura.  I did, and afterwards went to Enoshima, a small island to the southwest, for a day.
The title is a reference to genroku-era farce about two idiots who travel the length of the Tokaido.  I only read a short episode from the novel (in class last semester), but would like to get around to reading the entire story.  I did a fair bit of walking last weekend, it's true, but took the train for the part along the historical Tokaido...
Again, this post is probably best done in pictures.

I showed up late to my meeting with Kurata-sensei at Kamakura station, which seemed disastrous.  I realized at Kikuna (about a third of the way to Kamakura) that I had forgotten my meticulously-wrapped presents for his two kids in my room, and decided to turn back to get them.  I'm still not sure which would be ruder, being late to a first meeting or not bringing my gift, but I suspect that I screwed up again by deciding to go back...  Kurata-san and his family were very kind when I arrived, and we took the bus to explore a bit of Kamakura before lunch.

Hokokuji

First stop was Hokokuji, the historical family temple of the Uesugi and Ashikaga clans.  Quick history aside: the Ashikaga were shoguns from 1338 to 1573, although they had lost power long before Oda Nobunaga officially ended the shogunate (I think I've mentioned them before).  The Uesugi were a powerful clan to emerge in the late Sengoku (Warring States) Period, and were one of a council of five families that briefly ruled Japan after Hideyoshi's death.  The temple is at the base of a set of steep cliffs, and the remains of several members of the two clans are said to be interred in the caves at the base.  The temple is also famous for its bamboo gardens, which look exactly as you would imagine a bamboo garden to look.

The grave of an ancient head monk of the temple.  Zen Buddhist monks are interred beneath five-tiered gravestones, each corresponding to an element of Buddhist cannon.  The tiers, in order from bottom to top, represent earth, water, fire, wind and heaven.  The tiers each have a prescribed shape, although this one, placed prominently in the temple grounds and made of unhewn stones, could predate that convention.  Expertise on Zen Buddhist burial practices courtesy of Kurata-sensei.

Sugimotodera

Sugimotodera is the oldest temple in Kamakura, having been built during the Nara period, around ~800AD.  This is perhaps best illustrated by this famous staircase to the main temple, which is so worn by climbers' feet and compression of the ground underneath that the stairs all slope noticeably downhill.  Climbing is prohibited, probably for both preservation and safety considerations.  A side staircase to the top offers a nice view of downtown Kamakura.

Guarding the entrance to Sugimotodera (and most other Buddhist sites) are the statues of two deities called (as best as I could tell) 'Un' and 'Ah'.  Pretty sure these are contractions of their full names, Ungyo and Agyo.  From my sample size of two, you can tell the two apart because Ah will have his mouth open and Un's will be closed, as though they were pronouncing their names.

 We headed home for lunch, which I think deserves a separate post.  I'll conclude with the last temple (shrine, actually) we went to on Saturday,

Ryukomyo Jinja

This shrine is dedicated to an ancient dragon deity of local Shinto mythology.  More on the legend later (see 'Enoshima'), but the dragon is said to have been pacified by Benzaiten, the goddess of music, and now resides a few blocks from Kurata-sensei's house.  I learned more about the differences between shrines and temples today, as Buddhist temples often ask an entrance fee while Shinto shrines are generally free to enter.  Also, one bows twice, claps twice, and then prays only at shrines; at temples you simply bow and pray.  Tourists can spot the difference from the name--'jinja' for shrines versus 'tera' or 'ji' for temples--or from the decoration.  Jinja have rattles with bell-pulls for calling out the shrine's deity, and visitors are free to make a racket while worshipping.

Paid 200 yen for a fortune with Kurata-sensei's two kids.  Ira-chan (the younger sister) lucked out with 'dai-kichi,' which is the best luck.  I got 'kichi,' was told to sell my stocks, and received a tiny golden daruma (dharma) to match the larger red one I picked up at Sugimotodera.  I think it's cool that the Kurata family is Christian, but have no problem participating in Buddhist and Shinto traditions.  The religious history of Japan is particularly fascinating, and the intersection of many different religions over time has generated uniquely Japanese versions of some religions, notably Buddhism and Confucianism, that openly incorporate influences from others.  I've heard it is common for modern Japanese to observe Christian, Shinto and Buddhist rites for different parts of their lives.

Edit: the goddess of Enoshima is Benzaiten, not Kannon...

Sarashina Horii

Sarashina Horii
6/24
I was never meant to write a foodie blog.  The reason?  I take pictures of the mediocre food I eat (see last post, 'Ebisu, Calligraphy and Futsal') but fail to take a single photo when I visit one of Tokyo's most famous restaurants.

The place is called Sarashina Horii, located near Azabu-juban station in the southern downtown area.  It's one of the oldest restaurants in Tokyo, dating to 1789, and serves the best soba in the city.  Koitabashi-san offered to take me there after work yesterday because his son works a part-time job as a server there.  Since I've already set a precedent for poaching photos from other blogs, here's the storefront in the daytime, from Tokyo Cuisine Guide by Tokyo Joe.

The Japanese government often recommends this place to foreign dignitaries, including our very own POTUS.  It's also apparently a favorite of the members of AKB48, whom we unfortunately did not meet.

   Being completely honest, I can tell the difference between good and bad soba, but not between good and world-class.  My meal (soba and tiny tempura shrimp) tasted pretty good, and pricing was surprisingly reasonable for a restaurant with such a formidable reputation.  Seating was on traditional tatami mats, either seiza (sitting on one's knees, formal) or agura (criss-cross, not formal).  Both were difficult with my casual soccer player's absurdly inflexible legs.  Nevertheless, would definitely visit again, with a camera this time. 10/10.

Ebisu, Calligraphy, and Futsal

Ebisu, Calligraphy and Futsal
6/23
Ebisu
This weekend I met an old friend, spent far too much on food, invented my own kanji and finally played some soccer.  Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, especially if you're in a moving vehicle because it's the law and it saves lives.

Saturday I met up with Koki, whom I haven't seen since I was in Gifu.  Three years is a long time, and I almost didn't recognize him when we met at the station.  Speaking of stations, I've gotten lost at Shibuya station four times now.  The place is a maze of tunnels and turnstiles, with occasional climbs to the surface streets before descending again.  The walk from the Toyoko-sen (the line closest to my lodgings) to the Yamanote-sen takes like five minutes, and that's if you know the way, which I didn't.

The crowds outside Shibuya station.  Under the tree is the train station's very own tourist attraction, the statue of Hachiko the dog.  The folk legend goes that Hachiko was the loyal pet of a businessman who lived nearby, and would walk to the station every day to wait for him to come home.  One day the businessman died suddenly at work, and didn't arrive at the station.  Hachi arrived at the station in time for his master's train until his death ten years later, becoming a local celebrity for his loyalty (and punctuality).  The statue was erected at his habitual waiting-place, and is now the location of choice for people meeting at Shibuya station.  Judging from the crowd, specifying 'at Hachiko' probably wouldn't be enough.

Koki and I wandered around Ebisu for around an hour looking for a well-known shopping mall called the Ebisu Garden Place.  We eventually gave up and hailed a cab, which was not as exorbitant as the stories of Tokyo would have you believe.  The cab of course retraced our path back to the station, then went about two blocks further to drop us off.  We snacked at a place called Harbs Cafe, which is apparently a popular destination for dates and weekend rendezvous, but whose reputation I think Koki and I would agree is quite undeserved.  I had an orange cream tart which was nice but pricey, and a coconut tea which was bland but extortionate.  Koki didn't even finish his 880￥ ($8) honey tea.  We caught up, and talked football/soccer, mutual friends, etc.

What an overpriced afternoon tea looks like.  It wasn't bad, but I'd be annoyed paying more than 250￥ for tea, milk and coconut syrup.

Afterwards we went to an izakaya in Shibuya.  It's a little unclear to me how the Japanese choose an izakaya, because every fourth shopfront seems to be one, yet the place we decide on always seems to be pretty far out of the way.  Again, I spent too much money, but this time it was well worth it.  Koki recommended all of his favorite menu items, and I washed them down with a lovely shochu.  My favorite menu item was fried chicken cartilage, in which they take the chicken breast, cut away the  meat (sounds strange, I know), and batter and deep-fry the cartilage.  The result is crunchy, high-calorie, and well worth 600￥.  Unfortunately, I didn't get the name of the place, but might be able to retrace my steps.

Shodou
On Sunday I went to a calligraphy (書道, shodou) workshop produced by Sugimoto-sensei at Futako-tamagawa  campus.  The attendees were mostly small children and their parents, and the instructor began by explaining the evolution of kanji from early Chinese pictograms.  We then mimicked this development by creating our own kanji from pictures.  I made kanji for nikuman (meat dumpling), ice cream, and akanbe, the weirdly specific word for a face one makes by sticking out one's tongue, closing one eye, and pulling down the lower eyelid of the other eye.  You see it in anime occasionally; it's the Japanese equivalent of saying "nyah nyah" and blowing a raspberry.

My creative process.  Readers of Japanese or Chinese will recognize the kanji for niku (肉, meat) and man (万, 10,000) in the upper left, which the calligraphy sensei combined into our new nikuman character (top, orange).  Complex kanji are usually composed of radicals that relate to the meaning of the word, but it's not uncommon to include a radical with the same pronunciation to indicate how the word is spoken. Second from top right, my attempt at the same strokes. Far right, the kanji for tsumetai (冷たい, cold) and chichi (乳, milk), which I basically mashed together to get a character for ice cream (bottom, black).  Finally, the sensei's take on akanbe, using radicals for tongue, eye and mouth (bottom, orange).  My favorite is nikuman.

Everyone's work, set against the river Tama in the baackground.  I don't remember what this kid's kanji means, but my guess would be "the practice of filleting very large fish with a katana".  Meanings that I remember include something about grapefruit (top left, the one that looks like the panda spirit from Avatar: The Last Airbender), eating too much and getting fat (center, the dresing-table on a bowling ball), and panda (center, the baby television with a palm cross; looks nothing like the panda from Avatar).  Mine's right above the kid's head.

Soccer
Sunday night I finally got to play some soccer.  Bringing outdoor cleats was a waste of space; I haven't even seen a proper field in metropolitan Tokyo, let alone met anyone who would be willing to play with me.  Indoor and futsal, however, are both pretty popular, especially among college students and young adults.  A couple of other residents at my share house do a weekly game at a nearby middle school on Sundays, and I got an invite.  I was inadvertently a huge prick; first I told the guy I was going with that I was terrible (based on previous experience playing futsal), and ended up being one of the more capable players on the floor.  I blame my new futsal shoes--being able to do things like turning and stopping makes a world of difference in a small, fast game.  I capped the evening with a humiliating backheel goal that nutmegged the goalkeeper, who stayed on the floor for a while afterwards...  Hope I get an invite next week.

Meeting the Press

Meeting the Press
6/19
Begging pardon for my digital leave of absence.  Last weekend I was getting over a cold, and didn't do much over the weekend as a result.  I've been working on a normal schedule for two weeks now, and can share my impressions of Japanese university and professional life.

 Toshidai has three main campuses in Setagaya, Todoroki, and Yokohama, as well as a smaller office in Futako-tamagawa.  Geographically, the Setagaya and Todoroki campuses are very close, separated by a single stop on the Oimachi line.  Futako-tamagawa is two stops west of Todoroki.  Yokohama is much farther away.  I've only been there once, and I forget the stop name, but it's in an entirely different city (Yokohama, as opposed to Kawasaki) and takes much longer to get there.  The university has buses that periodically ferry the students between the campuses for free, but they aren't very well-used for reasons I'm about to explain.

When I was researching my summer position on the internet, I found it somewhat difficult to figure out which campus would become my primary base of operations.  Some departments were definitely located at certain campuses, but this didn't seem true for foreign languages.  As it turns out, because each campus is far from the others, they each have their own English classes.  Although the foreign language department is based in Setagaya, the professors and teachers are often tied to their respective campuses.  My supervisor, Sugimoto-sensei, is a member of both the foreign language department and the department of early child education, and spends most of her time in Todoroki.  As a result, students take all of their classes at a single campus.

I assist classes both in Todoroki and Setagaya.  My role seems to be principally language exchange, and professors like to invite me to part of their classes to let students listen to native speech and encourage student participation.  Many of my first appearances have been introductions, in which I give a short speech about myself and answer student questions.  Some have worked better than others.

One of the first was a guest appearance at Setagaya.  The room was full of first-year computer and natural science students, and like ninety percent male.  I gave my introduction, drew a map of the U.S. as a visual aid, and the professor opened the floor to questions.

The room was dead silent.

The professor was plainly desperate to start a dialogue, but unwilling to put specific students on the spot.  A few students offered their pre-prepared questions just to relieve the awkward tension in the room, but for the most part the sensei either asked her own questions or watched a stubbornly silent room.  It wasn't that they didn't have questions; there had been a ten-minute period to write them down before I arrived.  It was just that no one wanted the social opprobrium of speaking broken English to the entire class.  Eventually, I offered just to talk at them, and spoke for a few minutes about Portland.  The professor thanked me, and I left.

My next was a class at Todoroki.  The Early Child Education program trains kindergarten teachers, and none of the classes are less than eighty-five percent female.  A couple of the sections have three guys, and one class is entirely women.  I did a similar exercise, except this time Sugimoto-sensei has had me prepare a couple of short English essays about my childhood; an excerpt from one of them appears in a previous post.  The class was split into two groups; I talked to one while the other read, and then switched.  We began, I opened the floor, and...

Night and day.

The students are interested, ask odd questions, I give odd answers, and the walls come down.  They want to know about my perspective on things Japanese, my life back home, my personality, and am I single.  Everyone gets a good laugh when I tell them my favorite Japanese food is choco-monaka, which I'll have to take an aside to explain.

Choco-monaka is a Japanese ice cream bar, but it's no ordinary snack.  In the middle is a thin wafer of chocolate.  Around that is the ice cream bar, and around that is another coating of chocolate.  The entire thing is enclosed in a waffle wafer sandwich.  The thing tastes like an ice cream sandwich evolved, and the waffle layer acts as insulation that keeps it cold way longer than this ice cream sandwich has any right to remain uneaten.  It's so delicious that I can't believe the U.S. calls itself a developed nation and yet doesn't have these.  I went out to buy one and show you all, but forgot my camera and finished it by the time I got home, so I just borrowed a picture from the internet for those readers without a google search bar.

Choco-monaka in all of its many-layered glory. Image courtesy of balut and natto at http://garando.blogspot.jp/2009/04/me-morinaga.html.

They're at any given convenience store or supermarket and cost around a 100￥ each ($1, more or less), which explains why the students found it funny.  To be fair to the rest of Japanese cuisine, I love you too, but nothing gives you as much bang for your buck as this paragon of manufactured junk food.

To be fair to my students. there's more behind my experience (self-introduction, not gastronomic transcendence) than stereotypes of male and female, or STEM and humanities students.  I'm finding that the execution of the icebreaking exercise matters quite a bit.  Talking to students in small groups is more personable, and helps ease social nervousness at speaking a second language in front of the entire class.  Forcing everyone to talk by calling names in turn helps as well.  When everyone takes a turn to speak, the experience becomes integrating rather than isolating.  This I've learned after doing variations on the theme six or seven times now.  I've done other things as well, but this post is getting long so I think I'll start a new one.  In the meantime, here's another hydrangea picture.

At a tiny shrine sandwiched between a much larger Shinto shrine and the graveyard and temple across the street.  I walked past this place for a week on my way to work before I thought to find a path and go in.

Kamakura

Kamakura
6/8
Monday was the last day before the Japanese semester begins, and Manami and Ikumi (whom readers will remember from an earlier post) graciously offered to show me around Kamakura.  Kamakura is a small town south of the Tokyo metropolitan area, but close enough that the train ride is under an hour.  It was the seat of the first shogunate of the Minamoto clan from 1192 to 1333 (I knew the approximate dates but needed Wikipedia to confirm).  Dedicated players of the Civilization game series will note that Minamoto no Yoritomo, one of the great generals, founded the Kamakura shogunate.  Kamakura fell from historical relevance before my period of study in Early Modern Japan, but I still wanted to see it.
It didn't disappoint.

Kamakura is beautiful.  Leading away from the station into the hills is the market street, filled with tourists, tourist traps, and men with tight shorts and rickshaws that will run less able-bodied (and richer) tourists around the landmarks of the town.  Step off the shopping streets, and a different Kamakura emerges.  It seems a bit like the Lake Oswego to Yokohama's Portland; there doesn't seem to be much industry, but many of the streets are lined with beautiful houses, both recent and old, of what I expect are residents  who commute into Tokyo or Yokohama.  The town climbs into the hills until it disappears into mountainous forest, and meets the Pacific on the other end.  

The group in front of one of said beautiful residences. From L to R: Manami, Ikumi, myself.

Zeniarai Benzaiten Shrine (銭洗弁財天)
Zeniarai jinja, a shrine built around a mountain spring, was our first stop.  It's a small canyon in the foothills, accessible from the road by a tunnel carved out of the rock.  The spring is called zeniarai-mizu (銭洗水), or coin-washing water, and legend says that washing one's money here will cause it to multiply, granting wealth.  In any other country, it would be the pickpocket's paradise -- hundreds of people bringing large-denomination bills to a crowded area, pulling them out and then waving them around to dry.

Me taking a picture of Manami taking one of me. Hers turned out better.

However much you wash in the spring water will be doubled.  I washed my debit card, so we'll see what happens.  I celebrated my newfound wealth by paying the relatively steep admission prices (still cheap) to Kamakura's other landmarks.

Daibutsu (大仏)
The great Buddha at Kamakura is probably the city's most famous landmark.  The flyer I brought home says it was built in 1252; it is made entirely of bronze, stands over 13 meters tall, and weighs 121 tonnes.  Next to the Buddha are a pair of straw sandals that are taller than I am, with a sign that says, 'Please don't insert coins into the straw sandals.'  We didn't stay very long, as there's little to do at the shrine besides admire the statue, but we did meet a pair of friendly cats on our way out.

The daibutsu of Kamakura, with flowers helpfully placed in front for scale.

 Hasedera (長谷寺)
Just south of the daibutsu was my favorite site we visited, the Hase Temple to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy.  As with Zeniarai Benten, the architecture of the temple reflects the geography of Kamakura.  The shrine is tiered, with a garden at street level, lesser buildings about halfway up the climb to the top, and the main temple a hundred feet or so above the street.  Taking pictures inside the buildings is unfortunately prohibited, so my readers will just have to imagine the massive gilded statue of the eleven-headed Kannon that is the temple's main attraction.  Or google it, as other tourists haven't been as courteous as I was.  Above the temple is a short path lined with hydrangeas, and it is testament to the Japanese dedication to flower photography that the crowd waiting to walk the hydrangea path dwarfed the crowds around either of the landmark statues I visited.  My favorite aspect of the temple was the balcony that overlooks Sagami Bay.

I love temple gardens.  They epitomize the Japanese spirit of craftsmanship of nature into art that can also be seen in traditional architecture, much of early modern art, and of course, flower photography.  This is the one picture I was able to take of the entrance garden that is (almost) devoid of people.

 

Hasedera offers political advice.

The view from the top.  I took a selfie as well, but the iPhone 3 front camera really is unusable.

Kamakura was a refreshing break from Tokyo that I didn't realize I needed.  Next, settling into work. 

The Intern's Dress Guide

The Intern's Dress Guide
6/9
Thought I'd write a short piece for my wide readership who wants to do what I'm doing -- intern as a foreigner in a Japanese business organization (in my case, a university).  I wasn't able to find a guide like this before I set out, so maybe this will help someone.

Introduction
As I'm sure many readers are aware, Japanese professionals dress more formally than their American counterparts.  For all genders, this means a suit, although as an intern, I don't feel the need to maintain the same standard as my much more senior supervisors.  I'm trying to hit a sweet spot where I won't be mistaken for a student, without overdressing in a suit or blazer because it's really hot.  I'm aiming for something slightly higher than business casual.

Men
As a male, this sweet spot means dress slacks (no one in Japan wears khakis to work), a nice button-down dress shirt, a belt and a pair of dress shoes.  No tie so far, although I brought a few.   I'm no expert on shoes, but I'm pretty sure they're navy suede oxfords, which are a little unusual in both color and material, but work fine.  (If you want something orthodox, stick to black or dark brown leather).
My biggest problem so far has been avoiding looking like a student.  There is no dress code for Japanese college students, and they wear what you might see on the street or on the weekend.  However, high schools in Japan are private and always have a uniform, which consists of dress shirt, dark slacks, black leather shoes and a belt, and is alarmingly close to the clothes I brought to Japan.
I'm in no danger of looking like a college student, but I may be mistaken for a high schooler...

My tips for avoiding this unfortunate comparison:

• I like my suede shoes.  They're different from the typical uniform and pair well with all of my pants.  Students wear sneakers or lace-less loafers, so avoid these.
•  Shirts: avoid white and short sleeves, which are both common elements of student uniforms.  I like patterned shirts such as plaid, which make me look like a gaikokujin (foreigner), but not a student.
• As I mentioned earlier, avoid khaki and shorts.  Make sure your clothes are machine-washable.
• If you have one, bring a briefcase instead of a backpack.

Not men
Here I can only write down my observations, as I don't have any experience building a non-male wardrobe.  Women won't run into the same student problem as I have, as the girls' school uniform is very distinctive with a skirt, knee socks, and cloth things around the collar which I can't find a name for.  Japanese businesswomen prefer skirts over pants, and frequently wear heels.  However, not everyone dresses so formally to work, and many of the professors at my university dress as one might to walk to Sunday service.  
I think Japan seems pretty accepting of the LGBTQ community, as I've seen trans women hosting different talk shows on TV.  I'm afraid I can offer little more advice than dress nice, as though you were going to work.

Getting your feet wet
Pacific Northwesterners can leave their rain jackets at home.  The Japanese seem to dress more or less the same whether it's raining or not, and carry umbrellas if the forecast indicates rain.  Some wear wellingtons, though not with professional wear.