“The Dancing Old Man with a Lump on His Cheek”

This is a very old story known throughout Japan with slightly differing versions (oni instead of tengu, for instance), but it has a rare twist in the San’in region: while most stories end with a punishment for bad dancing, this one ends with a reward.

A statue in southern Matsue’s Izumo Kanbeno Sato, where I heard this story.

A long, long time ago, there lived an old man who had a large lump on his right cheek, which he was rather self-conscious about. He usually kept to himself, avoiding peoples’ stares.

One day, while out chopping wood in the forest, he came across a trio of tengu, that is, crow-like goblins that fly, control the weather with their special fans, and have egos almost as big as their noses are long. One, two, three tengu, dancing to some bewitching beat. The old man found it so enticing that he could not help but dash out and join in their ranks, losing himself as he swayed and shook to the music. One, two, three tengu, and four, an old man with a lump.

The tengu were very impressed by the old man’s abilities. When the dance ended, they praised him, and he could only accept their praise with the utmost humility. “We’ll give you a reward for showing us such a show,” said the leader of the tengu trio. “That lump looks like it must get in the way of your dancing. I’ll take it off for you.” So saying, he wriggled it off the old man’s face with ease.

Elated both by the experience and by having the lump removed, the old man returned to his village, and the people were all very surprised to see that he no longer had a lump. Another old man, who had a large lump on his left cheek, was especially interested. The first old man told him where he encountered the tengu trio, how he joined in the dance, and how they had decided to reward him for a good performance. “Perhaps if I do the same, they’ll remove my lump, too!” replied the second old man.

The next day, he set out to do just that. As the first old man had told him, he found the tengu trio the forest. One, two, three tengu, dancing to an entrancing beat. He dashed out to join them, dancing with as much bravado as his old muscles could muster, thrashing and hopping as wildly as his bones would allow. His performance was even wilder than the first old man’s performance had been, and the tengu were even more impressed. “That was amazing! You’re such a talented dancer,” they said.

“Oh no, not at all.”

“We should give you a reward for such a matchless performance.”

“Well, if you insist, I would love for–”

“I have this lump here. You can wear it as a symbol of pride!” So saying, the tengu–ever capricious in nature–slapped it upon the old man’s right cheek, resulting in both sides of his face being laden with hideous, leathery lumps. The trio of tengu flew away, leaving him with the curious proof of approval from such whimsy creatures.

 

Encounters on my walk home – ladies and boys

It’s any given Wednesday afternoon. I’m possessed by the not-very-unusual drive for something sweet, and decide to swing by a little wagashi shop on the way home from work. The shop owner is behind the counter and in the time I’m there, two other customers show up–regulars, apparently. There’s not much room for more than one person to look around at once, but the only one browsing is me.

The second customer and the shop owner get into a conversation about hosting foreign guests who are friends of their children, or experiences they’ve had abroad and the kindness they’ve received from strangers. “Everyone says Japan is the land of hospitality,” says the shop owner. “But everyone wants to show it to us when we go abroad, too. People are good everywhere.”

“Ah, but those two girls recently… how terrible.”

“How terrible. But it’s so good to get along with people from so many other countries.”

“That’s right! Japan is such good friends the America.”

“We all need to be friends and then there will be no more wars, right?”

I’ve been nodding along this whole time, darting my glance between the two ladies. They then come back to a conversation point that’s been brought up a few times. “All of the foreign people that get sent here are so smart!” she turns to me as if to compliment me, though I’ve done nothing to indicate any level of intellect. “My French and Chinese guests, even if they couldn’t speak Japanese, they could still think of such good ways to communicate! Always such smart people. And you have such a smart figure, too!”

“Oh, uh… thanks?”

“There are some people from Okayama,” adds the shop owner, “that come all the way here with a bunch of foreign students to teach them about wagashi! I was so surprised when I saw them all crowding in here.”

The customer carries on with her business. “Do you have these in dumplings in soy sauce flavor? Oh, good! I’ll take ten. And this namagashi is so pretty. Do you have two in stock?” she points to a sculpted ball of sweet red bean paste covered in shredded fondant-like texture in different colors. It sits among a counter of other decoratively sculpted sweets based on seasonal motifs and labled with artful names.

“Yes! I just had a tea ceremony instructor in here the other day tell me how much liveliness this namagashi brought to the room.”

“I’ll just enjoy this with my husband.”

My little self-introductive conversation with the shop owner goes on after the customer excuses herself. I don’t remember how, but we got the topic of viewing the moon. “Did you know that tea rooms are designed that way?”

“So that you can view the moon? Yes, I love that!”

“Have you been to Fumon-in?”

“Yes, once! I liked that tea room.”

“There didn’t used to be so many places where you could just walk in an order namagashi.”

“Really?”

“Sure, Fumon-in serves them now, but it’s only in the last decade or so that they started doing that. And the history museum serves them, but that’s only since the museum was built recently! And… where else can you just walk in…”

In my head, I’m listing them off. Meimei-an, Gesshouji, Chidori-ya…

“Oh, and Tachibana!”

“I haven’t heard of that one. Where’s that?”

After receiving directions, she goes on. “In Matsue, there really are a lot of people who practice the tea ceremony. A lot more than most places. Do you practice it?”

“Yes, I practice omotesenke.”

“Omote-san! Wow!”

“I only started in April, so I can’t perform temae very well yet.” I’m referring to the process of making the tea.

“Omote is all about the temae, so you’re probably fine!” So I’ve heard about omotesenke. So I’ve heard so many times. The shop owner goes on to lament her own lack of skill in preparing tea, or speaking foreign language. All these foreigners showing up and speaking Japanese so well, and she’s hopeless. The foreigners who show up in Matsue are all so smart.

“Maybe, but I can’t make such beautiful wagashi! I’m only good for eating them.”

Half an hour after showing up to what I thought would only be a five minute visit, I stop by the bread shop nearby and take the neighborhood streets to get home, passing by an elementary school. A trio of first and second grade boys have just spotted me, and stop in their tracks right at the corner I need to turn. “Konnichiwa!” they say.

“Konnichiwa,” I respond. I expected them to say ‘Hello’ instead, though this usually comes out more like ‘Hallo’ when the crowds of elementary school students usually say when I pass by.

They’ve blocked my path. “What’s your name?” Here it comes. They go on to ask one question after another. “What country are you from?”

“America. What country are you from?”

“Japan. But I’m from Yonago!” This is a town nearby in Tottori.

“And I’m from Shimane! No, wait… yeah, Shimane.”

After asking them what grades they’re in, they ask me, “what grade are you in? I’ll bet you’re in middle school!” That instantly makes me very pleased with these kids, but unfortunately, I’m not quite that youthful.

“I’ve already graduated from graduate school.”

“EEEEHHHHHHHH!?!” the trio shout in unison. “You’re a shakaijin!”

“Yes, but I’m the one who’s most shocked about that! At some point I suddenly became an adult,” I reply. It’s true. I’m a full fledged member of society. They go on to ask what society I’m a member of (Matsue, at the moment!), and how old I am, meriting just as much shock as finding out I’m not a student. This leads to a myriad of other questions, leading to me opening my wallet to take out a picture of my family to show them. Spying my wallet, they ask if there is money in there. “That’s a secret!” I reply.

“Do you have any American money?”

“They use dollars there, right?”

“That’s right! We use American dollars. Actually… I do have one with me today!” I say and pull out my other wallet I happened to have brought with me. There is one single dollar bill, and they all breathe ‘wow’ as they feel it and comment on how it feels like Japanese money, and ignore my trying to give them a history lesson about the wigged man featured on it. The second-grader guesses correctly that it’s roughly worth 100 yen, and when one of the first-graders asks how much I could sell it for, I resist making a joke asking how much he’s willing to give for it, settling on a simple “100 yen.” They’re disappointed to find out I don’t have any American coins with me.

Eventually they allow me to keep going on my way home, having said, ‘let’s talk as we keep walking’! While walking up the steps to the bridge, one asks, “do you brush your teeth? Yeah, I thought so,” and then moves straight into “look at all the turtles!” before I can ask if he brushes his teeth. Before I can comment that there really are a lot of turtles gathered, he goes on, “my grandma feeds them bread from here. They’re probably waiting for that!” Immediately losing interest in turtles, they ask what’s in my bag from the bread shop.

I’m ashamed to admit it’s a burger–just a little burger with high-quality lean Shimane beef, because my iron levels were feeling low, really! I rarely eat burgers! This may be the first I’ve had since coming to Japan, and I rarely had them in the US to begin with! Don’t believe that stereotype about Americans eating burgers all the time! Really! Ahh, but defending myself in the name of destroying stereotypes would probably be lost on them. Thankfully, they make no such comments about Americans always eating burgers.

“That’s not bread!” they shout, but then think better of it. “Or, well, I guess it is. There’s burgers at the bread shop.”

I’m starting to wonder if these boys are going to follow me all the way home. “Well, I’m crossing the street here, so…”

“So are we!”

“Well, I turn here, so…”

“We’ll go down this street then. Oh, I saw a carp in this stream once. It was a meter long!”

“Really? Well… I’m going up here… to my apartment…”

“You live here?”

“Well, there. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime!”

“Yeah. Let’s meet again,” they say in utmost serious, not the passing niceties of the world of adults.

“Do you know how to say ‘bye-bye’ in English?” Oops. That was English.

“Um… oh! I know! ‘Good bye!'”

“Right! Good bye!”

“Good bye!”

“Bye bye.”

 

Interpreters are modern day ninja

Being a ninja is already part of my job as it is.

Just for the record, sure, ninja did some assassinations sometimes, but other factors are what made them so cool. Everything from meteorology to secret codes to memorization techniques. Ninja skills were best suited to collecting and relaying information quickly and accurately–much like interpreters. I still have much to learn in the art of this ninjutsu, though.

I’m still a little partial to samurai.

 

The Kojiki a.t.b.b. – The Hairless Hare of Inaba – Part 4

Continued from Part 3








Continued in Part 5

 

The Month of the Gods: October in Matsue

It’s now October, the most festive month in Matsue!

Every month in Japan has a classical name, and October is called Kannazuki (神無月 “the month without gods”) everywhere but the Izumo region, the “Province of the Gods”, where it is Kamiarizuki (神有月 “the month with gods”).

This is because all the kami (gods) gather at Izumo Taisha for their annual meeting to determine people’s fate for the following year–in otherwords, it’s a big En-musubi meeting.

Actually, due to the craziness of the modern Japanese calendar system, calling the entire month of October “Kannazuki” or “Kamiarizuki” is a bit of a misnomer. Technically, it’s only about a week long, and it usually falls shortly after October. For the year Heisei 25, it will be November 12~19, 2013.

While there are religious rituals commemorating the gathering of the gods at Izumo Taisha at this time, the human-oriented events celebrating this air of En in this region usually take place throughout the Gregorian month of October.

Matsue, the capital city of the Province of the Gods, usually has a lot planned. Last year I made it to a handful of events, and this year I’ll be busy with the Dai-chakai (grand tea gathering at Matsue Castle featuring eleven schools of tea) and the Little Mardi Gras parade and ceremony commemorating the 20th anniversary of Matsue’s Friendship City ties with the US city of New Orleans. I’ve made a couple of lanterns for the Suitoro Lantern Festival (which lasts all month), and I’ll probably go to watch the Do-gyoretsu Drum Parade, though I know many foreign residents who are taking part on the drums or flutes.

In the meantime, the streets have echoed with the sound of Do drum practices on weekend nights, as various neighborhoods trade off with their turn to take part in the parade. I remember thinking it was very mysterious when I first it last year on a late August night, but now it when I hear something in the distance, I think, “oh, I wonder which neighborhood it is now? It was Suetsugu last year, maybe this year the sound is coming from Sotonakabara?” A quick detour on my way home brings me closer to the sound, and then I find everyone out with their drums and flutes. Usually, these drums are kept in well-marked garages in each neighborhood, and people are only allowed in those garages under certain circumstances. The participating neighbors are drawn at random, though no neighborhood is allowed to participate two years in a row.

I snapped this picture right after they finished the song and took a break.

Speaking of finding festiveness throughout the streets, I noticed a poster for an event coming up at the Kyomise shopping district, home to many of Matsue’s gourmet restaurants.

There’s a good pun lurking around every corner. While they aren’t exactly the kind of events that the locals anticipate all year like the Dai-chakai, Suitoro, or Do-gyoretsu, Kyomise puts on a handful of little festivals throughout the year with specialty food stalls. Back in early spring, they had the “Donburi Karakoro” event, which was based on a pun combining donburi (any kind of food served on top of a bowl of rice), karakoro (the sound-effect Lafcadio Hearn used to describe the sound of geta sandals walking down the Ohashi bridge back in the Meiji era, a term which is use to describe both Karakoro Hiroba (square) in Kyomise and Karakoro Art Studio across the canal), and a familiar children’s song about acorns, “Donguri Korokoro.”

The pun in this poster is for the “Kyomise Ikemen Festival,” which is a play on the word for noodles, men, and the slang term for a hot guy, ikemen (ee-keh-mehn, not AIK-men). Oh Japan, you and your puns. Unfortunately I’ll be busy with other events that day and won’t be in Kyomise until the Little Marti Gras live performances at Karakoro Hiroba later that afternoon, but I got enough of a laugh from the poster that I thought I’d share.

 

Sea of Japan coast around the Mizu-no-Miyako

Given the choice between mountains and oceans, I’ll usually choose mountains. I attribute this to growing up at the foot of the Rockies, and finding going for a hike among the pines and aspens just a normal way to spend your time. That’s always been very commonplace to me, as opposed to scenes like this:

Going to the beach was always a big deal–you don’t get to enjoy tide pools where there is no tide. It’s still a little strange to me that I live such a short drive from the Sea of Japan, but I usually don’t think about it because Lake Shinji is but a 10 minute walk away. I can see a big beautiful body of water whenever I want! Not to mention the castle moats throughout town and the Ohashi River that bisects the “City of Water.” What with the pleasure boats around the city center and the array of bridges and canals, it’s not surprising that Matsue is sometimes called the Venice of Japan.

Living so close to the coast also does not sink in because of the unusual geography of the Shimane Peninsula. The areas between and around Lakes Shinji and Nakaumi are fairly flat (the Izumo flatlands on the west side are fairly unique nationwide, I’ve been told). This is just north of the Chuugoku mountain range, which sort of cuts this area off from the rest of Japan. Instead of fading out into the sea, however, there is another set of mountains along the northern coast of the peninsula.

Therefore, it’s not as if I have regular ocean views–I have a small wall of mountains to block that view instead of provide a vantage point. Seeing the green hills makes me plenty happy, though. Tsunami are hardly a concern either, and earthquakes are infrequent here to begin with.

On a clear day I can see to Daisen, though!

There are the days, however, when it strikes me: “Oh yeah! I’m right by the Sea of Japan!”

That’s usually on a drive for work or with friends, leaving the city center to head north through the winding roads. There are a handful of beaches I’ve heard quite a bit about, but I’ve only seen a small taste of them. Furthermore, I never manage to get there during good swimming times! Either it’s too late in the day or too late in the season. Besides the colder temperatures, that also means giant jellyfish.

“This place is really busy in summer. Really! Drinks and flotation rental and everything! A lot of these houses are inns during peak season, too! Really…” my friend introduced one of her favorite spots to me when we visited on a rainy day. We saw the beach house structures filled with everything that I’m sure gets a lot of use in hot weather, there just weren’t any people.

That said, the water still looks lovely in cooler weather and the fishing activity is still just as lively. Dried squid is a speciality along the San’in coast, and at Kakahama in northern Matsue there are fishermen and fisherwomen who can teach people how to cut and clean their own squid, which then gets spun and sun-dried. Although it takes several hours to dry it into the kind of snack you can pull apart like jerky and eat with sake, you could probably hunt around for some place to eat some other specialities, such as sazae (turban shells) or kame-no-te (“turtle hand”). Or you could just join the locals who are fishing out there if you have your tools and some patience.

Thanks for the photo use, Alaina! Click for her blog.

Also Alaina’s photo.

Stand back if you don’t want a splash (or slap) to the face! Also Alaina’s photo.

I didn’t touch any squid or do any fishing that day, but I did take a nice walk and snap a few photos of my own. Although Lake Shinji gets some nice waves on windy days, it’s not quite like the crash of the surf or the echoes of a wave-cave.

Along the north coast, the neighborhoods are quiet, and you can walk out your front door to scenes like this:

Those cement blocks are found all over Japan to break the waves that could come on shore.

A seemingly quiet, peaceful spot, right? However, if you turn around, you’ll see this:

This is the site of the Mihonoseki Meteor. On December 10, 1992, right around 9pm, a meteor crashed through the roof and floor of a house in this spot. It was was 25.2cm in length and weighed 6.38kg, and the fireball it created was witnessed from Hiroshima, a few hours south of Matsue. Thankfully no one was injured! The meteorite itself has been studied and is now on display in Meteor Plaza, a museum, heated salt-water pool, and relaxation station attached to Shichirui Port (a good place to depart from to get to the Oki Islands). That heated pool happens to be mineral water from the sea… hmm, I guess that takes away the seasonal swimming excuse.

As special as going to the beach still is for me, I can understand how it may not be as exciting to other people. Case in point, a few weeks back we had a barbecue at a friend’s place, on a seldom-used road right along on a tiny harbor surrounded by docked fishing boats. Before lighting fireworks, I saw a stunning sunset. As we were all getting caught up in saying how nice it must be to live with the ocean at your door step, my friend laughed, saying she had always assumed it was completely normal, and pointed out the places where she’d jump in to swim as it was common sense to do so.

I guess I need to get more beach sense.

 

Kimono Battle Plans: Obi styles

Continuing from the previous entry, I’ll be doing a furisode style kimono again with detailed patterning and long, swinging sleeves. Such a flashy kimono requires an appropriately fancy style of obi (belt) to go along with it.

The flashiness of a kimono and style of obi may change depending on the situation. For instance, at a tea ceremony, simplicity is key. You don’t want to be the overpowering element in the tea room. In these cases, you would usually stick with a drum-like flat style of folding the obi.

The furisode, however, is used in particularly felicitous circumstances. 20-year-old women wear this on their coming-of-age day, and they can continue to use them as unmarried young women when they attend weddings. 7-year-old girls going to shrines and temples for their Shichi-Go-San visit wear them. Maiko (geisha in training) wear them because they are still so young, unskilled, and immature than they cannot be trusted with the art of conversation–so they should at least be a pretty thing to look at. In both milestone rituals in girls’ lives, taking a commemorative photograph in very flashy furisode (whether inherited, bought new, rented, or selected at the photo studio) is practically essential. Not everyone can be a real maiko, but any female tourist can be one for a day at numerous photo studios that specialize in this in Kyoto (in Matsue, you can get the normal kimono experience for a day.)

Because it is meant to be so much fun to look at and you would wear it when you really do mean to be quite noticable, that means fancier methods of tying the obi are appropriate. Many of the participants in the foreigner category in the kimono competition are beginners, so many of them are taught to go with the fukura-suzume style (see those steps in this entry from last year.) Or at least, that was my experience last year! Everyone was doing the same thing, including the girls who placed. The fukura-suzume is like a stuffed (fukura) sparrow (suzume), a little bird who has just grown fat from a feast spreading its wings to fly.

Because this will be my second time taking part in the competition, I wanted to try a new style, and we’re going with a bunko style–it pretty much looks like a bow with even ends, though the specific style of bunko may vary. The approach we finally decided on is fairly standard chou-bunko with one unique twist, and it looks more like a butterfly than a chubby bird–not that I have anything against chubby birds, they’re quite cute and happy-looking. I saw a happily-fat little one the other day, and a part of me shouted, “Look, a flying obi!” (I have yet to see fat butterflies, though.)

Probably due to having past experience now, I learned the steps a lot faster this year. The real question is how fast I can do them on stage! In the meantime, more practice, and photos of said practice to come.

 

Kimono Battle Plans: Colors, patterns, accessories

Once you’re committed to taking part in a kimono competition, the first step is to assemble your ensemble.

In these regional competitions, which lead up to the national/world competition in Tokyo in spring, there are the following categories (if I remember correctly):

-Men (dressed in hakama: pleated trousers)
-Children (boys and girls, in the style of their choosing)
-Foreigners (men and women, in the style of their choosing)
-Women: Casual (kimono used for going out)
-Women: Tomesode (the most formal kimono for mature women)
-Women: Furisode (the most flamboyant kimono for younger women)
-Schools (three students dressing each other in unison)

Last year only two foreigners entered the competition to represent Matsue in Kochi. This year it seems we’ll have participants in the foreigner, children, men, and women categories in Hiroshima! Way to go, Matsue! I’m not entirely sure, but it sounds like the regional competition will be held in Tottori sometime in the next few years.

While the foreigners are allowed to do any style and are cut more slack than the Japanese women would be, most of the female participants go with furisode because that stands out the most. Though if everyone is doing that, wouldn’t something like girl’s hakama or a black tomesode stand out more? I asked Kimono-sensei about doing something faster like hakama since I was one of the slower people last year, but she insisted on furisode since that’s more of a show of skill. Who am I to argue?

One of the aesthetic points of kimono that tends to differ from western styles of clothing is that they may seem very mismatched both in regard to colors and patterns. While you wouldn’t wear a flower-pattern blouse and a stripped skirt, this is a perfectly acceptable combination in kimono (though there are more Japanese-style geometric patterns to choose from than simple stripes). Conversely, too much of one motif starts to get a bit weighted. For instance, if you have peonies on your obi (belt), then try not to have them on your kimono–it probably wouldn’t be very chic to go peony-viewing dressed like that, either! I’ve heard the same advice in the tea ceremony–try to avoid having the same motif repeated too many times in the hanging scroll, flowers, tools, and wagashi (Japanese confectionery). The goal is to harmonize, not to match.

While I did really like my very busy-looking blue and cream-colored crane pattern last year, this year I’ll be going with a deep red and more subdued cherry blossom pattern. While most flower patterns are seasonal, cherry blossoms represent Japan as a whole, so they work any time of year–or so I was told. Not that you’re judged on seasonality, though your overall taste may be taken into account, in additional to your skill in dressing yourself on stage (top-layer and obi only!) and grace in doing so.

Well, for competitions in December (regionals) and possibly April (nationals), I suppose I’ll be seasonally prepared for both.

More on battle plans in the next entry…

 

The Kojiki a.t.b.b. – The Hairless Hare of Inaba – Part 3

Continued from Part 2









Continued in Part 4

 

Kanayago: God(dess) of Tatara

Have you ever heard of Tatara?

If you’re like me, the first thing that pops into your head is one of the 28 Chinese mansion constellations (婁), but if you’re more interested in iron working, steel working, and Japanese swords, perhaps you already know this as foot-operated bellows used in the firey production of these materials (踏鞴, though usually written phonetically as たたら).

It’s such a crucial part of this region’s history, however, that I’ve learned a thing or two–though lacking any craftsmanship sense, my knowledge is still limited. Here’s a basic introduce so as to introduce one of the local deities.

Tatara was likely imported into Japan from Korea by way of Shimane Prefecture, and seeing as the San’in region is rich with titanium magnetite, a necessary ingrediant for iron production, it took hold here very early on in Japanese history. Way back in ancient Japan–specifically 713ad, two years after the compilation of the Kojiki (originally ordered by Emperor Temmu) was completed, Empress Gemmei ordered the compliation of the Fudoki. While the Kojiki is like a history book (which we would now consider a book of Shinto mythology), the Fudoki were like encyclopedia, conducted in each province to chronicle geography, plant and animal species, the lifestyles of the people, and significant historical events (many of which we would now refer to as myths). Most of the Fudoki no longer exist, but the Izumo-no-Kuni-Fudoki remains mostly in tact. Therefore, we know a lot more about life in 8th century Izumo than about any other part of Japan. It includes many details about tatara.

One of the diorama at the Shimane Museum of Ancient Izumo.

Because we have so much information about its history and because it was practiced in Izumo province for hundreds of years, there are a number of museums, blacksmith family residences, archeological digs, ruins, and sword museums around the towns of Okuizumo, Yasugi, and Unnan. Okuizumo is best known for this because the The Society for Preservation of Japanese Art Swords has rebuild a tatara there called Nittoho-Tatara, and forges swords using traditional means once a year a so. Unfortunately, due to risk of injury, these are not typically open to the public (bummer!). The nearby Okuizumo Tatara Swords Museum, however, does a 90-minute forging display on the 2nd and 4th Sunday of every month.

Click for map source (Japanese)

There is a patron god of Tatara, though many of the popular local myths say she is a goddess. This is Kanayago, the kami that is revered throughout Japan for teaching craftsmen how to making iron. Having particular influence over Western Japan, she wanted to settle in the mountains there, so she descended upon a particular spot in southwestern Yasugi where a heron perched upon a katsura tree, a very brief hike up the hill from Kanayago-jinja, the head shrine of all Kanayago shrines.

Pretty humble for a head shrine.

As numerous as Kanayago shrines are (especially in the Chuugoku region), many of them make donations to this head shrine.

A short walk across from the entrance to the shrine is the folk tradition hall dedicated to the shrine and legends about Kanayago. It’s small, but well designed and with lots of information and 3D displays. I was running out of battery on my camera, though, so I didn’t take pictures of the birds and katsura and wisteria displays!

This shrine is mounted on a “kera.”

I thought the rat motif carved into the shrine was interesting, especially since there is another very famous kami in the Izumo region associated with rats. When I asked the museum staff about it, they said that because rats are numerous, they are a sign of good luck–that the blessings may also be numerous!

There is a kera featured in this photo, as well as a few outside the shrine. This seemingly unattractive 2.8 tone slab of rock is actually the result of 70 hours of heating 13 tons of iron and 13 tons of charcoal in the firey bellows, it is from this kera that they can get 1 ton or less of tama-hagane (“jewel steel”), from which katana and other Japanese blades are made.

Phew. That was a heavily paraphrased mouthful from the highly detailed and information Hitachi Metals’ English homepage. Please start reading here for the more thorough explanation of everything that goes into tatara.

For those of you like me who just want to cut to the mythology, here are a few stories about Kanayago, quoted directly from the Hitachi Metal’s page about her:

According to the legend in Hino County, Tottori Prefecture, a dog howled at Kanayago-kami when she descended from the heavens. The deity tried to escape by climbing a vine, but the vine broke. She was attacked by the dog and died as a result. The version of the story told in I’ishi County, Shimane Prefecture, is that, rather than ivy, she became entangled in hemp or flax and died. The legend in Nita County, Shimane Prefecture, holds that the ivy did indeed break, but she then grabbed onto a wisteria tree and was saved. She may be a deity, but in this humorous story she is a rather human character. Such legends are the reason why dogs are not allowed near tatara and hemp is not used for any tatara tools or equipment. Also, katsura trees are not burned in tatara because they are regarded as divine.

Kanayago-kami is a female deity so she hates women. A murage will not enter the tatara when his wife is menstruating. He shuts down his tatara temporarily just before and after his wife gives birth. If work is at a point that he cannot put it aside, it is said that he will not go home nor look at the face of his newly born child. It is also said that murage are especially strict about not getting into a bath if a woman has used it.

Festivals are held at the shrine Kanayago-jinja in the spring around the middle of the 3rd month and in the autumn early in the 10th month, the dates being determined according to the Chinese zodiacal calendar. In the past, the Kanayago festival at Hida was an event to which tatara masters and blacksmiths would come from distant provinces, as well as from Izumo and the neighboring province of Hoki.

(Notes: A “murage” was an iron-making master. Hoki Province is now western Tottori, and neighbored Izumo Province.)

To wrap this all up, if you’re a fan of Hayao Miyazaki and Ghibli studio movies, then you likely are already familiar with tatara after all. Iron Town in the 1997 film Princess Mononoke was based on Okuizumo (not to be confused with Higashiizumo)!