The tea ceremony for restless people

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

I served tea a few days later at Ichibata Yakushi temple. Everyone kept saying how hard it is to be up and down and entering and leaving the tea room all day, but I find it much easier than sitting in seiza for extended periods of time.

 

I’m here for cultural exchange, not to provide laughter and joy

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

Go enjoy some Christmas Cake, everyone!

Matsue’s charming Kyomise shopping district, southeast of the castle. Snapped this shot right before sundown after leaving a tea ceremony lesson.

 

Last name first, first name last

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

In case you don’t know who Lafcadio Hearn is…

 

Lake Shinji Hot Springs, 2013

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

I love onsen, and am founder and president of the “Hello My Onsen” club here in Shimane. That’s really just a fancy name based on a funny typo for a small group of JET participants who go to hot springs around Shimane together. Well, so far our little club has only gotten together once, but even if we don’t go together, we’re united in the spirit of love for hot mineral water and decorative baths! Not to mention good skin, as Shimane is once again rated as the best prefecture for beautiful skin.

EDIT: Just to make sure this isn’t misunderstood out of context, yes, they are gender-seperate! Like I said, this feels so normal to me now that I forget how weird I used to find the idea.

 

Lake Shinji Hot Springs, 2012

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

Just so it’s clear–this wasn’t at a hotel, but a local center with a public bath, it’s highly unlikely you’d see anything unless you happen to be looking at the windows (which I was, seeing as I was still new to the area and observing everything). Even then, it was just a shadow. Don’t need to be afraid to use the onsen! Unless you’re really, really far out in the mountains somewhere, but I have no such experiences to speak of.

 

Putting the party in a tea party

I am currently on vacation and will return to reply to comments and provide new content later. Until then, please enjoy an excess of doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. See you in mid January!

Here’s a brief description of Kagetsu in English.

 

Vacation time!

Autumn was very busy for me, and I had so much scheduled that I didn’t get to use my flextime hours very quickly! My schedule is based on requests for presentations and lectures, school and community center visits, translations and interpreting jobs, and anything else that may require a Japanese-speaking American. It keeps life interesting, and I never get in a rut because pretty much every month is busy with different kinds of work.

I’ve taken short trips here and there throughout the year, but I’m taking a longer vacation this time for a few holidays coming up, and I don’t expect to have much WordPress access. Therefore, for the next few weeks, please forgive the excessive use of little doodles and comics about my daily life in the San’in region. I’ll be back in mid-January to reply to comments and return visits to new visitors. In the meantime, enjoy the holiday season in your respective cultures (and then some) and see you next year!

 

Blue stones and the man who loved the arsonist

Benten Quay

I’ve written about Mihonoseki a few times before (see here and here and here), but on this particular trip I went specifically to see the Aoishi-datami paved street and the temple it leads to, seeing as I didn’t take a look on a previous visit to the famous Miho Shrine.

Read more about Sakaiminato, Daikonshima, and the Meoto-Iwa.

I’m not the first to write about Mihonoseki either, as Lafcadio Hearn and other famous writers have already described it and its role in Japanese history before me (there is still a ways to go because its significance is explained in my comic renditions of the Kojiki myths). Miho Shrine is home to the mirthful lucky god Ebisu, who is not only the god of fishing and commerce but of song and dance–therefore a number of famous musicians have beens spotted visiting Mihonoseki, too!

If you’re keeping an eye out for them, you might notice these signs around the area with quotes about Mihonoseki written by famous people. This is Toson Shimazaki.

The aoishi are literally “blue-green stones” that are used in this pathway between Miho Shrine and Bukkoji-ji Temple.

This is me and my new friend next to an “ao-ishi” at Benten Quay.

Lined up altogether, they lent a certain mood to the otherwise homey atmosphere. The best way to enjoy this path is by snacking on freshly grilled squid first.

Lately there seems to be a fascination with the decorated manhole covers around Japan. Here is one from Mihonoseki to add to your viewing pleasure.

I like seeing real fish better than seeing manhole fish.

A pleasant uphill walk later, we made it to Bukkoku-ji to see the grave of Ikuta Shonosuke, otherwise known as Kichiza in many historical works of fiction. He’s not usually the star of the story he’s featured in, though–that infamous role belongs to Yaoya O-Shichi.

In the year 1682, 16-year-old O-Shichi took refuge in a temple after a fire broke out in her Edo (nowadays called Tokyo) neighborhood. There, she met handsome young Kichiza, who was working as a page at the temple, and she fell in love with him. Upon returning home, she set another fire hoping that it would give her the chance to meet him again. This made her so infamous that it is inauspicious for a girl to be born in the same year as her (the year of the Fire Horse, which comes every 60 years–the next one is 2026).

She’s been immortalized both as a villain and a tragic heroine, which is likely due in part to her trial. The law was such that criminals age 15 or under would not be put to death, so the judge tried to help her out by telling the crowd she was only 15. She didn’t catch on to this, though, and asserted that she was 16. The judge had no choice but to penalize her to–appropriately?–being burnt at the stake.

Most of the stories end there, however many romantic liberties they’ve taken. It is said, though, that Kichiza felt so troubled over this that he went on a pilgrimage all around Japan to pray for her soul. It was here at Mihonoseki that he died at age 70 on October 4, 1737.

There are also a handful of wooden statues of different Buddhas from the Heian era to be seen here the temple within Bukkoku-ji, Dainichi. Speaking of the Heian era, a couple of emperors who were exiled to the Oki Islands stayed in this Bukkoku-ji on their way off the mainland.

Rest in peace, Kichiza! And with any luck, O-Shichi is resting in peace now, too.

 

Stop dancing and let me be generous to you.

There is a familiar dance whenever people want to do something for you or give you something.

“Here, allow me.”
“No, you musn’t!”
“It’s fine!”
“I can’t allow it!”
“I told you, I’m doing it!”
“Absolutely not!”
“I insist!”
“But I couldn’t possibly accept…”
“Here you go.”
“But… well, thank you ever so much.”
“No, no, it was my pleasure.”
“I don’t deserve it; you’re so very generous.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How could such a humble person as myself come to be graced by your generosity?”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I shall treasure this all the days of my life–”
“Seriously. Don’t mention it. Ever again.”
“….. Uh, right. Thanks.”

In the US, it would probably go more like this:

“Here, allow me.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“No, I insist.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem.”

I mean, what is the giver going to do? Say, “Really? Well, okay!” and not follow through on their offer?

I’m happy to treat people from time to time and depending on the circumstance, especially considering how many times (many, many times!) I’ve been treated. I simply prefer to cut the dance short–I hope I’m doing enough dancing to be polite when I’m on the receiving end, though!

Gift-giving is a big part of interpersonal relations in Japan, but the nuances can make many Westerners uncomfortable. It can even be sticky for Japanese people, as you can see in Natsume Soseki’s novel “Botchan” in which the money for a meal the narrator was treated to is left on his coworker’s desk for weeks with both parties refusing to move it due to its social implications. On a more forcefully friendly note, I once interpreted for a couple of guests and they were given a special item, which they had originally asked if they could find in a gift shop. They really liked it, and wanted to get a second one for a friend, but insisted on finding it in a gift shop and buying it themselves (an understandable notion in Western manners). It turns out it was a limited edition item and no longer sold, so they were gifted a second one, much to the joy of the hosts and to the vague guilt of the visitors.

I’ve heard some other advice that is common in both Japan and a few other cultures–don’t complement your host’s possessions, or they may be inclined to give them to you! A friend of mine has a little collection of accessories that formerly belonged to old ladies thanks to her dishing out of compliments. Then again, though I said nothing about it in the conversation I got into with a lady on a train once, she gave me her necklace when we parted ways. I only had half a chocolate bar from the US to give her in return.

Instead of refusing a gift, which may make the giver embarrassed that you didn’t like it, it’s best practice to be reciprocal. This is a sticky situation when, say, I’m given something expensive by my Tea-sensei who runs a shop of very fine Japanese goods. I don’t trust my taste enough to get her something Japanese in origin! I brought a lot of little Colorado gifts with me when I first came to Matsue, but I suppose I should have packed a few just-in-case nicer gifts, too. (Thank you, Mom and friends for getting a couple of them to me!).

 

Chuugoku-Shikoku Kimono Contest

This Sunday participants from nine prefectures across the Chuugoku and Shikoku regions got together to celebrate the spirit of Japan and the beauty of kimono by putting half-dressed people on stage and seeing how fast they could make the fabric fly. It’s a little more refined than I make it sound, but essentially it’s both a pageant and a race. This year it was held on a sunny day at an event center in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park. Seeing as Hiroshima is very easy to access from Matsue on the new highway that opened this year, it was a lot easier to gather a handful of participants to represent Shimane this year (as opposed to the two of us last year in Kochi).

Painfully sunny.

My day began at 4:30am with a light breakfast and applying thick stage makeup. After that, a group of us walked to our hair appointment and had them sculpt hairstyles reminiscent of the Edo era, however many extensions, fluff balls, hair pins, and however much hair spray it took to accomplish that. The bulky nihongami (literally “Japan hair”) accomplishes two things: it adds some shape to your head so you don’t get lost in a flashy kimono, and serves as a base for the multitude of decorations.

Nihongami: The right side

Nihongami: The left side

Since I mostly did my makeup myself, my hair was finished earlier than the others and I walked back to the hotel as the early morning light was hitting the shopping streets. While the streets weren’t very busy at that hour, there were a handful of people who got an amused smile out of seeing the obviously foreign girl in decorated nihongami and makeup walking down the street in otherwise western style attire. I wouldn’t mind doing that more often if nihongami weren’t so heavy.

After dressing in kimono for the first time that day, I arrived at the event center around 8:30am, where it was bustling with activity as people waited for the opening rehearsal. The stage felt very similar to how it did last year, complete with the trumpets and drums that sounded off to add drama to the announcement of the winners. Despite the decline of autumn scenery as we head into winter, the venue was swarming with colors and patterns and nihongami of all kinds further weighted down in creative accessories. I could feel some excitement returning to me–the “kimono are so pretty” excitement. Even being in a fancy furisode myself, I started to feel a little underdressed being mixed up among all the other patterns and colors! And such adorable and artful hair things everywhere! It was a constant day of “look at this!” and “look at that one!” and “it’s so pretty~!” However weary I’ve gotten of speed-dressing in the same outfit, the spirit of kimono and fascination thereof managed to seep its way back in to my heart.

Because this is an annual gathering of regional sodo (the art of kimono) practitioners, it did not only serve as a competition, but as a showcase for creative ways of folding the obi. Like the hanamusubi in the shape of flowers last year, there were other shows put on to entertain the crowd later in the afternoon as the judges deliberated on the winners.

The contest itself was broken in to seven categories, three of which were very crowded: the casual kimono, furisode (fancy kimono for young women), and tomesode (formal kimono for mature women). They required participants to be able to give inspiring 30-second speeches of their encounters with kimono culture should they be selected to speak. Their awards ceremonies were determined in two sets–the first to determine the 22 of them of that will have the chance to go on to the world competition in Tokyo, and out of those 22, the ones who won first and second place in their categories, the queen of the pageant–typically a furisode participant. This year, a participant from Matsue took second place in the casual category–quite a feat when you consider there were over thirty women on stage with her!

The other categories had fewer participants, so they could be introduced individually as they competed, and those who finished earliest would be subjected to questioning–I mean, interviewed on the spot–as soon as they finished and stepped forward to be judged. These included the schools (in which three students, middle school through university, would dress each other in unison), the children (including a 2-year-old this time!), the men (including one whose company has special wafuku days when employees may show up in traditional Japanese clothes), and the foreigners.

There were 10 of us this year, as opposed to 12 last year, though this time it was all women. Because it doesn’t take as long to put on a man’s kimono, it’s tough for the men in the foreigner category. Sure, they aren’t as worried about finishing in time, but that means they have to just stand there and be judged at least twice as long as everyone else does! Although all the women wore furisode last year, this year two were dressed in casual kimono. I had once asked Sensei about doing hakama this year because it would stand out, but she insisted that furisode give you more of a chance of winning. So, furisode it was again, but I did a bunko style bow instead of fukura-suzume like I did last year, and like most furisode participants do in either the Japanese or the foreigner categories.

There was one other furisode participant who had a different spin on the usual fukura-suzume, and her kimono was a deep bluish purple, with delicate gold-lined pattern. Wow. I’ve seen a lot of kimono in my life, but that was a really, really stunning kimono, and it suited her really well. While I was Number 5 in the foreigner lineup, she was Number 4, right next to me. While I’m bringing up kimono admiration, I really liked the wintery white pine motif Number 6 had, too. Part of the fun backstage was talking to each other about how we did or did not pick out our kimono ourselves (many in the foreigner category are just borrowing them from teachers), and how we got into this contest in the first place.

For many, the sentiment is the same: “I wanted to learn how to wear a kimono anyway, so when my teacher gave me the chance, I took it. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.”

The participants who didn’t know each other weren’t especially talkative between the rehearsal and the opening ceremony and our turn on stage to compete. That was probably less a matter of feeling competitive and more a matter of eating lunch, fixing and preparing our outfits, and generally being sleep deprived from having woken up early for hair appointments. Then came our turn, though I had grown a little nervous by that point, I was more relaxed than the year before when I only wanted to avoid making embarrassing mistakes (and made them anyway) and avoid finishing last (which I would have, had the person before me not gone back for an item she forgot to carry).

This year, there was a strange sense of peace as I was folding the obi and fastening the top layer of the kimono. Is this what they call confidence? I smiled just as I planned to, and didn’t make any obvious mistakes that I was aware of as I was doing it. What’s more, I was pretty far along when the first person finished in a little over five minutes–it was Number 4, in the really stunning furisode and clever spin on the fukura-suzume! That was remarkably fast, but I was much further along that I usually am at five minutes–startling so. Had I forgotten something? I must had forgotten something. There must had being something I should had remembered to check but didn’t. I went through the parts I usually check, did a mental checklist of the things I had been forgetting to check on recent practices, but nothing came to mind. I finished fifth, and could have finished even faster if I wasn’t taken my time to check things at the end. For the first time, I wasn’t rushed on time!!

However, finishing among the first people (and being able to speak more Japanese than some) means I was interviewed.

“Is Japanese alright?”
“Yes, Japanese is fine.”
“Oh, your Japanese might be better than mine! Why did you enter this contest?”
“I’ve admired kimono since middle school, so I was very happy to have this chance.”
“And what part of kimono do you admire?”
“Their patterns are very pretty.”
“How do you think you did today?”
“Um… gee, I wonder.”

In my head I immediately regretted not answering in more formal Japanese. Aaahhh. Can’t regret it too much, right?

After it ended I found there was more to regret–the left side of my obi had sunken too low, so the obi-age also fell and wasn’t smooth as it could have been. What’s more, the seam of the back of my kimono was off-center–it’s been forever since I made that mistake, I always at least get that right during my practices! I wasn’t totally pleased with the shape of the wings on my butterfly-like bunko either, but at least I got the hardest part of the bunko right–getting both side to line up with each other without the pink plastic of the biyou-sugata tool sticking out. Perhaps this paragragh doesn’t mean anything without having a little kitsuke (kimono dressing) experience yourself, but this is what I’ve been wrapped up in two or three times a week for the past few months.

I took a peek at Number 4 after we left the stage–not only was she fast, but nothing was noticeably off. If I must lose, I thought, then I want to lose to her. She, like five of the other participants, was studying abroad from China, and there were a couple of high school exchange students from Australia and Thailand in the contest this year, too. We all got to know each other a lot better after we were done competing and just needed to wait for results. The sleepiness all melts away after you really need to be alert.

During the break we had, my Korean CIR friend and fellow representative from Matsue went with me to go take pictures, and Kimono-sensei found us first to notice all of our errors and fix them… over… and over… and over… and over… No regrets, I told myself. No need to regret that detail, and that detail, and that detail, and that really big detail… Sigh. Without fail, you always discover new mistakes to make once you’re on stage.

Between this year and last year, I think the biggest improvement I’ve made was in poise. More experience certainly helps, but so has my tea ceremony training since last spring. For many years I’ve admired and studied 和の心 (wa no kokoro, the spirit of harmony in Japanese style) from the outside, but it becomes a part of you as you practice it. To paraphrase samurai great Yagyu Munenori, learning is merely the gate, and not the house.

Just because I’ve had an increase in poise doesn’t mean I’ve had any decrease in dorkiness, though.

Then came the awards ceremony. By that time everyone in the foreigner category was chattering away together in whatever language suited us backstage. By that time, many participants were of the same thinking: “Forget Tokyo! I’m proud to have gotten here today!” However, this year I really am aiming for Tokyo. Unlike many students who are only studying here until the end of the school year in March, I’ll still be here to represent the San’in region. If I’ve practiced this hard, I may as well go that far! That was the plan when I started practicing again this year anyway.

The Australian student won third place, and then as if according to plan…

Tada! I was pleased with that. After all, I wasn’t surprised in the least when Number 4 took first place. She totally deserved it. One of the nicest things about the contest is that by the end of the day, all the foreign participants are just really happy for each other. We all wanted to win to some degree, and sometimes we’re relieved not to so as to take a break from the tiring practices, but there’s a sense of camaraderie through common experience. (This is starting to sound like a sports manga.)

Twelve hours after waking up that morning, it was finally time to pack up our kimono and unpack our hair to return home to Matsue. I’ll be taking a break for the next month or so, but then I’ll start preparing for the world competition on the NHK in Tokyo. The kimono story will continue!

In the meantime, I think I can rock this post-Nihongami look.