May 18, 2008

Tohoku (東北) (JAPAN)

Riding Japan's Shinkansen (Bullet Train), Planting Otouba (塔婆) at a Grave, Visiting Chuson-Ji (中尊寺) and Motsu-Ji (毛越寺), and Returning to Tokyo

Normally, I possess an uncanny ability to wake up without an alarm. However, given that I have only accumulated 4 hours of sleep over the past two nights, I decided to rely on something more reliable: an alarm (although the one-touch snooze option is a devilish invention). Besides, getting up at 4:30 am is probably pushing my waking ability a little too far – surely there is an ingrained inclination against such foolishness. (As a matter of fact, Kumagai-san overslept this morning, so it was a good thing I did rely on my alarm).

We left the house at 5:20 am, but since it was early on a Sunday morning we could not hail down any taxis. Instead, reached Shinagawa Station the old-fashioned way, via a 15 minute walk. This walk may have been our undoing as we ended up missing our Shinkansen train from Tokyo Station at 6:02 am. While Kumagai-san was her usual productive self, buying coffee and several bento boxes for breakfast on the train, I was far more useless as I used the hour-long wait to catch up on much-needed sleep in the lobby.

We boarded the Shinkansen at around 7:30 am, sitting in the unreserved section having missed our earlier train, but it didn't actually make any difference because there were plenty of open seats on the train. I ordered a cup of green tea from the train steward and settled in to eat my bento breakfast: white rice topped with ground beef in one wooden bento box, and a variety of vegetables, tempura, and salmon in the other wooden bento box. Although I also brought along my Japanese flash cards to study, the food put me right to sleep. The next thing I knew, we were pulling into Ichinoseki Station for a quick transfer to Mizusawa Station in northern Honshu (roughly 450 km from Tokyo) at around 10:00 am.

Kumagai-san and I caught a taxi to her mother-in-law's house in this quiet Japanese city - far removed from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The home was a traditional styled Japanese house built (like many homes) during the bubble economy of the 1970s. I was introduced to half a dozen of Kumagai-san's relatives, and spent much of the time looking through a variety of interesting photo albums. When everyone arrived at the house, we climbed into cars and drove to the Kumagai family graveyard (Kumagai-san's husband).

According to Japanese customs, there are certain ceremonies that are to be performed to mark the anniversary of someone's death - and this is the one-year anniversary of Takuya Kumagai's passing. Two weekend's ago, we visited a temple in Kujukuri to collect otouba (shown to the right), and today I observed the custom of planting them at the grave. After Kumagai-san planted the otouba, family members paid their respects by, in turn, laying down incense sticks and bowing their heads in prayer. They also planted new flowers, trimmed the hedges of several bushes, and passed out a mochi treats at the end.

As we left the graveyard, which is old and intimate, we passed an interesting collection of 'nameless' tombstones that were accumulated in a pyramidal fashion. Given the age of the tombstones, the names engraved on them are no longer recognizable and so are not looked after by family members. Rather than leaving such tombstones alone for all eternity, they were gathered by the local community in such a fashion so that people may pay their respects to all at the same time. The closest analogy I can think of is America's own Tomb of the Unknown Solder in Washington D.C.

We next headed into the city where we had a room reserved at a classy, traditional-styled Japanese restaurant. I always find it interesting that many restaurants in Japan occupy several stories - a result of having private rooms as opposed to open dining areas - and so it is common to take an elevator (even if it is only to reach the second floor). Today was no different, and upon reaching the second floor we were greeted by the waiting staff in another small lobby area. Everyone removed their shoes and placed them in the wooden foot locker along the wall before heading back to the private room. Already laid out on the table was a delicious-looking feast of Japanese food: sushi, sashimi, raw beef, small snacks, a seaweed concoction, vegetables, and other specialty dishes were later brought out as the meal progressed. Of course, there were also drinks available: along with beer, I tried umeshu (Japanese plum wine) for the first time, which is a sweet-tasting alcohol that has a 10-15% alcohol content (making it a dangerous drink because the alcohol is well masked).

Below are several photos of the meal before I started eating. The commendable Japanese practice of kaiseki, which is where the art of the presentation is equally as important as the taste, could be seen from the food's layout.

The conversation at the table was all in Japanese, so I had a difficult time keeping up with everything. I felt better knowing that even Kumagai-san had to pay close attention as there is a thick local dialect far removed from that of Tokyo. Given the age of everyone present, there were plenty of interesting stories floating around, including several stories from World War II. Both elderly men shown in the picture above fought in World War II, and although neither wanted to relive the graphic and horrific memories, they still feel very strongly about everything that happened.

For example, part of the conversation dealt with the North Korean abductions of Japanese citizens, a practice that reached its peak between 1977-1983 when 70-80 Japanese were taken by North Korean agents. Many Japanese understandably detest this practice, including North Korea's subsequent denials for all but 16 people, but the men explained that these are nothing compared to the atrocities committed by Japan's occupying forces ("one millionth", according to the men). As teachers and men of learning, they understand much of the intense hatred felt by countries such as Korea and China, which is something most westerners are completely oblivious to (for most, the "Rape of Nanking" is nothing more than a statistical instance of war-time abuse). If I had a more dominant command of the Japanese language there are a whole host of topics I would have raised, but I also figured this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things.

After we finished eating, we were dropped off at the Mizusawa local train station. On our way back to Tokyo, Kumagai-san and I were planning to visit several famous Japanese cultural sights, including a UNESCO World Heritage sight, located in a nearby city.

We sat around chatting at the station for about 30 minutes while we waited for the next train. It is worth commenting that this was easily the most desolate train station I have ever seen: it looks like something from mid-western America 50 years ago. One can easily imagine how out-of-place we must have looked: not only am I a foreigner, but we were both dressed formally in a town that currently has no use for サラリーマン (Japanese salayman).

The train station was indicative of the city itself, which resembled something of a ghost town. Indeed, many second-tier Japanese cities are experiencing a similar fate as younger generations move to the big cities like Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. Indeed, while Japan itself has a negative growth rate, Tokyo has a growing population (compounding the exodus).

Funnily enough, I joked that despite the long station (shown above), the train would probably end up being only two train-cars long. Sure enough, it was two train cars long. I have truly become a product of big cities.

We alighted at Hiraizuma station, which has a population of only 8,000 people, but which once boasted grandeur that rivaled that found in Kyoto. For three generations during the 11 and 12th Centuries, the Fujiwara family dominated the region. Using the local gold mines as the basis of their power, they sought to create a "paradise on earth" that was devoted to the principles of Buddhist thought. Artisans were brought from all over Japan, including from the rival city of Kyoto, to construct magnificent temples and palaces. At one point during the afternoon, when we were overlooking the area from a hill, we overheard a tour guide commenting that the region had a population of over one million people in the 11th Century! It was hard to believe now when there are only rice fields stretching to the horizon.

We grabbed a map from an information booth near the train station and walked 700 meters down the main road of town to Motsu-Ji (毛越寺). Such was the level of activity that were it not for the cultural sights this town would probably not exist.

Originally built in 850, Motsu-ji was once Tohoku's largest temple complex, however most of the buildings were destroyed when the Fujiwara family was conquered. What remains is a large pond with an enchanting walk along the perimeter, and plenty of beautiful gardens recalling Japan's Heian Era.

The pictures below were taken from Motsu-ji: the picture to the left shows one of my favorite trees in Japan because of the layers of leaves, and the picture to the right is looking out over the complex.

We next caught a designated bus shuttling tourists to Chuson-Ji (中尊寺). It was 3:30 pm when we arrived, and my energy was dangerously low. I bought 300 yen ice-cream to try and bolster my spirits, which certainly helped, but afterward we were faced with a tough 300 meter climb along a peaceful tree-lined path. Fortunately, the views were amazing (*cue comment from the tour guide I wrote about above*).

Chuson-Ji was first established in 850, but it was in the 12th Century that the complex rapidly expanded under the Fujiwara family's influence. Over 300 buildings, including 40 temples, were constructed, but far less remain today because of various natural disasters.

We passed a variety of well-preserved temples, but the highlight of the complex was easily the Golden Hall, or Konjiki-do (金色堂). The hall contains amazing gold detailing, black laquerwork, and mother-of-pearl inlays. There were also three wood-carved Buddhas, each measuring several meters in height. This was followed by a museum-like area that contained old Fujiwara family treasures, including such things as sutras, swords, scrolls, paintings, lacquerware, and so on...

As may be obvious, by this point in the day I was absorbing very little. We completed the walking tour of the complex relatively quickly, and by 5:45 pm we were walking back down the steep path. We caught a taxi back to the train station, where we had a 20 minute wait until the next local train came along. Waiting 20 minutes for a train is something that is absolutely unheard of in Tokyo - I normally get annoyed if there is any more than a four minute wait.

However, there was a much-welcomed 25 minute wait for the next Tokyo-bound Shinkansen train once we reached Ichinoseki. We decided to use the time to search out a local ramen restaurant that was recommended by the staff around the station. Time does not seem to carry much importance in this part of Japan (again, the polar opposite of Tokyo) as we had a 10 minute wait for our ramen noodles to be served. It sounds ridiculous, but neither of us could believe how long it was taking. In the end, we had exactly eight minutes to eat our steaming bowls of noodles before we had to race back to the train station to catch the Shinkansen. We arrived with less than one minute to spare, and after finding seats (accidentally in the reserved section), both of us passed out until we arrived at Tokyo station 135 minutes later.

I finally arrived back at the house in Kita-Shinagawa at 10:00 pm, making this one of the busiest weekends in a long while. But without question, it was worth every second of it.