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...