Run Me Like a River

In the age of the shinkansen, it's easy to forget how isolated parts of Japan once were.  While it's not a big country in terms of landmass, mountains are an obstacle in traveling from one area to another.   You can get an idea of this even today if you travel between Arashiyama and Kameoka.  Mind you, this is something I'd never done before, because it's kind of a pain in the ass.  It sounds cool to take the "romantic" train to Kameoka and come back via boat along the river, and that's exactly what makes it a pain in the ass.  If you love tourists like I love tourists (ie, not at all, except in the old adage that the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference), this little experience is a nightmare.  

You can't just walk up to the station, buy a ticket, and board a train...I tried that once years ago with zero success (although I did find this cool little doll workshop that gave me Ideas, and Arashiyama is never a waste of time in my mind).  You have to get a ticket for THIS particular train in advance, and we're talking like well in advance.  No chance of, "Hmm, maybe tomorrow I'll take the sightseeing train to Kameoka."  On the other hand, the boat back doesn't really have a reliable advance booking.  I mean, they had something, because some people had some kind of voucher they were exchanging for a ticket, but on the websites that I read everything said you just showed up at the dock with your fingers crossed.  Given all this and the overabundance of capital-t Tourists, you may wonder if it's even worth it?

Well, maybe it's because something tells me it's going to be many moons before I make it back to Kyoto, but this time around I finally did it.  When I hadn't heard back from Ando about their doll-dressing experience, my mind turned to other things I could do, and realized that this would be an excellent chance to try something new.  Now that was a couple of weeks before I'd gotten sunburnt wandering around the flea market in the harsh morning sunlight, but when I got to Arashiyama and realized it was going to be a bright, bright sunshiny day on the Hozugawa, I scrounged around through my memory long enough to come up with the words for sun and protect...even if I got the order wrong, saying "mamoru no hi" and pointing to my arm got the message across at the Lawson's I stopped in, and I continued on my way to the train station.

The train ride really was beautiful.  When you're not going through a tunnel - and there were a lot, but their eerie beauty doesn't really lend itself well to photos - you're skirting the edge of the hills above the river.  Gold was beginning to tinge the green of the trees, and although it's supposed to be even more beautiful in November I can't really do anything about when my vacation is.  Instead, I watched the river rush by outside the windows, trying to take shots when the trees weren't whipping by in front of me.

Oh, one more thing to add...those seats are about as comfy as the dinner table chairs at your great-great grandmother's house...and don't have a lot of room for extra padding, just FYI.  Still, it does help you to get a feel for the historic nature of the train.  I guess.

I hadn't given a lot of thought to getting from Torokko Kameoka station to the dock where you embark on the river cruise - I had it marked on Google maps, so if all else failed, I figured I could walk it.  Fortunately for my already abused feet, it didn't come to that - as you exit the station, there are signs pointing to a bus that will take you straight to the dock.  One of the things that struck me the hardest from my first trip to Japan back in 2005 was how easy it is to get around, in spite of not knowing the language, and it holds true to this day.  The Japanese really know how to make systems that move people smoothly and efficiently, and this is a saving grace when it comes to shit tons of tourists being around.  So I got on the bus, got off at the dock, got a numbered ticket, and within probably half an hour was being called down to board a boat.

These boats are the old fashioned kind that used to ply the river - shallow bottomed and steered by long bamboo poles.  There were three guides in each boat that rotated between the three positions over the course of the two-hour trip - it was clearly really hard work, and I felt kind of bad about just sitting there enjoying the afternoon while they were rowing.

Okay, I wasn't just sitting there.  There was a lot to look at.  We saw ducks, turtles, herons, cormorants - even a snake on a rock at the side of the river just a foot away from my face.  The mountains we passed between were tall and imposing.  It was also interesting to me to see how the forest changes from area to area - some packed densely with shorter trees, others filled with tall ones.  There was at least one slope that had numerous trees toppled and sitting as logs on the hillside...evidence of a recent typhoon, if my experience hiking up to Kuuya-no-taki back in 2018 is any indication.  

I do wonder, sometimes, what non-artists do on long trips like this by themselves.  I was busy watching the water - especially the way it flowed over rocks, thinking about how I would paint that - and enjoying the fresh air, occasionally listening to my seatmates who would interpret some tidbit the guide shared.  But I'm kind of used to being alone in my own head, finding interest for myself in what's going on around me.  Maybe that's why I can travel alone.  Good thing I wasn't an extrovert from birth.

That is not to say that the trip was serene, smooth...er...sailing, all the way.  There were rapids.  Not bad ones, necessarily, but there was a splash guard along the sides of the boat that we lifted up from time to time to keep the water from dousing us.  The lead guide used his pole to push us along and away from some of the bigger rocks, especially in narrower passages.  It reminded me of float trips with my Dad and Shaggy when I was a kid, and with other family members when I was a bit older.  Except that after capsizing our canoe three times on one memorable trip with my sister and cousin, I'm not allowed to guide anymore.

It was also fun to see the trains pass us by.  The romantic train isn't the only one that goes between Arashiyama and Kameoka...if you really want to take the boat but can't get tickets, it IS possible just to take a normal train.  It just isn't as pretty.  There are apparently also buses - I didn't look too deeply into this possibility, because I didn't care.  But I love trains and I enjoyed seeing them flash by us as we got nearer and nearer to Arashiyama.

When we were just about there, a floating "food truck" puttered over next to us, providing snacks and lightening our wallets (literally...in Mongolia you kind of forget how heavy coins can be, and Japan's change goes all the way up to 500 yen).  After two hours I was ready to kill for a coke, and they had icy cold cans of it.  I don't even remember how much I paid.  It might have been 300 yen, but it might have been 1000.  I was thirsty enough that I didn't actually care.

The river had other boats on it by that point, people out for a paddle, so it was easy to know that we were almost there.  My back at least was glad it was over.  This trip made me realize that I'm not the same age I was when I first came to Kyoto - I can't abuse my feet all day, or sit two hours with back support, and not pay the consequences.  It's kind of sad, but I guess it was inevitable that eventually my body would remind me I'm no longer in my 20s.  But with a cold can of coke in hand, I was ready to abuse myself at least a little more.  If I hadn't had a rendezvous that afternoon with the Kawaii Kingpin, there were still so many things I would have liked to do in Arashiyama...mossy shrines and haunted tunnels.  But I guess they'll probably still be there when I finally do make it back again.

Feet in the Abyss, Heart in Paradise

Back in April, when I used the power of the pass for Evil, I realized I had miscalculated: a few hours in Kyoto wasn't really enough.  As I was on my way back to Toyama, I couldn't help thinking about all the places I didn't get to revisit, all the art experiences I still hadn't tried.  So it was probably inevitable that - six months later, I'd find myself boarding a plane to Kansai airport.

Even though this is the fifth trip I've made to Kyoto in October, there are STILL things I haven't done, or seen (or eaten...because, ya know...as soon as I get back to Japan all I can think about eating is yakiniku, Coco curry, and Denny's French toast).  Not because I turn into a lazy bum on vacation (although I have been more than I'd like to admit lately), but because Kyoto just has a disproportionate number of things to do in October.  No sooner had the sun risen on my first morning back in my otaku homeland than I was out the door of my hotel to get breakfast at McDonald's down the street from my first temple of the day, Chion-Ji.

I've written about shopping Kyoto's flea markets before, so I won't waste too many words on this one.  Hyakumanben Tendukuri-Ichi is a handicraft market that takes place on the 15th of every market, and is filled with all sorts of beautiful and/or kawaii things.  In the hour and a half that I wandered the grounds I think I only spent around 1000 yen, on a pastry, plum juice, and a cute little cat clip made with kimono fabric.  Even though I tried to keep to the shadows I still managed to get a sunburn, so I guess an argument could be made that it was a waste of my time...except that it wasn't.  It's kind of hard to explain, but there's something about browsing all the various creations of my fellow artisans that feeds my soul, like smiling at them and complimenting their work can lift a layer of the cynicism I've been accumulating for a while.

Plus I'm pretty sure I can use that cat clip to hold the accupressure point in my hand the next time I get a migraine, so completely not a waste of time.

That said, it wasn't the main event of the day for me.  The last three times I found myself in Kyoto on fall break, I passed up going to a certain Buddhist procession at Sokujo-in.  It was a matter of prioritizing, and in the past, the other options were more interesting - it's hard to compete with horseback archery, namsayin'?  Also, maybe I got my fill of Buddhism that summer in Tibet, but since I'd been working my way through a webnovel about a dragon and a monk leading up to my departure, it seemed like an ideal time.

(It was not an ideal time...the dragon calls the monk a "bald donkey" throughout the story, and it's possible that my brain very disrespectfully reminded me of this during the ceremony.)

The Nijugo Bosatsu Oneri Kuyo was one of the least crowded events I'd ever been to in Japan.  I found non-reserved seating on a bench in the shade, and the Japanese man I sat next to explained that this ceremony was at least partially intended to bless the children that participated - he had two grandchildren that were involved.  Wearing elaborate costumes, the procession moved between the main hall and Jizo's hall of the temple across an elevated wooden bridge.  They crossed back and forth three times, traveling from the Pure Land and back.

Or they did eventually.  When the clouds first condensed over the temple, I was really happy, since I wouldn't have to worry about sunburn whilst getting snap happy.  My relief was short lived, though, as a few sprinkles came down, followed by more, until everyone was either under an umbrella, or huddling under one of the tents or shelters.  The costumes and masks are actual works of art which can't get wet, so the temple made an announcement that they would postpone til 1:30.  After waiting for most of an hour already, my feet weren't thrilled, but the rain lightened up, the crew covered the bridge with plastic, and at 1:30 the show went on.

First came the monks of the temple, followed by yamabushi, mountain priests.  I found myself thinking that they seemed to be wearing the clothes that tengu are often depicted wearing, and when my new friend explained that they were Shinto priests, I felt a little justified for making that connection.  I realize I've said this before, but it bears repeating that the way that Buddhism and Shinto coexist in Japan is something that I really love.

Following the monks and priests were all sorts of kawaii kodomo.*  It's a big honor for them to be in the ceremony, but also a big responsibility.  The littlest boy's hat kept sliding around on his head, and he seemed to be DONE WITH IT, in spite of his father's attempt to fix it every two steps.  On their second journey, they scattered paper petals from the bridge to the people below.  These are supposed to be lucky, and we all scrambled to catch them or pick them up off the ground.

This went on for a while.  The entire procession travels three times, and the third time there are extra people.  Temple patrons maybe...some kind of VIP.  They threw paper petals as well, so if I ever figure out what to do with them I'm going to have lots of good art material.  Finally, after what seemed like forever, a masked Jizo led out the bodhisattvas.

If you didn't formerly spend 8 days temple crawling in Tibet, you may not know what a bodhisattva is.  

Teach Us, Becky-sensei!

So basically, in Buddhism, there are people who have basically reached enlightenment, and are able to attain Nirvana.  However, they put it off in order to help others on their journey.  These are the bodhisattvas.  In the procession, there are 25 of them.  Immediately after Jizo there are two bodhisattvas that slowly dance their way along the bridge, followed by another carrying a censer (at least I think that's what it was), and then the rest carrying musical instruments (and accompanied by a parent, because those masks make it pretty hard to see, and it would put a real damper on things if they fell off the bridge).

Eventually they made it back to the main hall, and I decided that it was time for me to head back to my usual haunts.  It was a neat experience and I'm glad I went, but my feet were killing me by that point, comfy new shoes or not.  

*All children are cute, though...until you have to teach them.

The Kids are All Right

 It was spring break, and after so long I finally took that trip to Japan that I booked three years ago.  I made one more attempt to see the hotaruika - and failed.  I stayed at a campground at the beach, and all the conditions were there...but the squid were not.  So I give up.  I'll stick to bioluminescent insects from here on out.  On the other hand, I got to do something I couldn't when I lived here before - jet all over the damn place using the Japan Rail Pass.  See, when I was here before, foreign residents weren’t allowed to use it, so all my train travel had previously been done the hard way…with lots and LOTS of money.  Not that the pass is cheap, but by day 4 it had already paid for itself (maybe…art teachers don’t do math on vacation, bitches).

So I wasn't stingy when it came to getting around.  Whether it was riding the rails up to Niigata to see the yaoi temple or hopping a train down to Kyoto for the afternoon to celebrate my best boy’s promotion to manager, the country was my oyster.  It only took me a couple of hours to make it to Kyoto…and ALL its tourists.  The Kawaii Kingpin admitted that he missed the pandemic a very tiny bit on that account, and I had to sympathize…the days when people didn’t bring their screaming children to restaurants truly were glorious, in at least that respect.

Of course, as I told him, it’s different when the children in question are your blood relatives.  My niblings are perfect, of course.  To demonstrate (and totally not because I have a lot of odds and ends blogs to catch up on), let me take you back to last summer.  I was planning to take Princess and Dirt Devil to the anime con, but a poorly timed water leak at the hotel I booked caused me to reconsider.  Instead, I took them and Monkey out for a day o’ fun with their favorite aunt.

We started at Barnes and Noble.  This is part of what makes these kids awesome; I can tell them I’m taking them to a bookstore and they’re excited about it.  After picking up some manga volumes, a movie, and some games, it was time for lunch.  Dirt Devil suggested sushi, so I found a place in West Omaha that had sushi, ramen, and a few other things, and ordered a bunch of food.  Monkey wasn’t sure about it, so we ordered a sweet and sour chicken to be sure he wouldn’t starve.  Guess what was the only thing left at the end?  They were especially huge fans of ramune.

After a quick stop at home for the bathroom we went to play mini-golf and waste money at the arcade.  Was there, perhaps, a bit of a Japanese theme going?  Whether or not I intended there to be, yes, there was.  I wish I could take credit for helping them to become the baby otaku that they are today, but in all honesty they have come to it on their own.  I mean, I DID show them Totoro, Kiki's Delivery Service, and Howl's Moving Castle, as well as a few episodes of Naruto and My Hero Academia.  But while Princess' tastes in anime and mine are nearly identical (Hanako-kun and Bungou Stray Dogs?  Yes, this is a girl after my own heart!), Dirt Devil likes One Piece.  ONE PIECE?!?  Also known as, the anime that I never even started - I read one chapter of the manga and decided this was not for me.  But he likes it.  And while Monkey hasn't gotten into anime much, he's definitely a gamer...his favorite character is Link, and when I asked him what I could bring him from Japan, he just asked for Pokemon everything.

After the arcade we went to my favorite ice cream place, Coldstone, and ate a shit ton of ice cream (Okay, I ate a shit ton...I think each of them took theirs home and stuck it in the freezer).  While this might be considered bad "mom" behavior - spoiling your kids by buying them whatever they want and loading them up on sugar - it seems like excellent aunt behavior.  Fortunately, my brother and sister-in-law are tolerant...if I want to take them out for the day, they're not too picky about where we are going.  They behave and we get along pretty well, and their parents get a day to do whatever they need to do, as responsible-type adults.  

Hopefully they'll still feel that way in a few years when they graduate and I take them on Le Grand Tour.  I'm pretty sure I already know what country they'll want to visit.

Otaku Pilgrimage: Garden of Words

So, it's been more than a month since I came back from Japan.  My 6 faithful readers have probably been wondering if I was going to write anything else about it, and honestly, I kind of wondered the same thing.  BUT one of my projects for this summer is to catch up on my backlog of posts, so I'm starting here: the Otaku Pilgrimage.  Specifically, the setting for most of the film Garden of Words, Shinjuku Gyoen.

This is not the mecca I originally intended to get to this time around, but I couldn't bring myself to go to Shimokitazawa when I got back to Tokyo, even if the live shows DID start earlier than they would here.  On the other hand, Shinjuku Gyoen was in the neighborhood I was staying in...approximately.  I still took a train two stops, because a.) my JR Pass was in its final hours and I wanted to get as much out of it as I could, and b.) my feet were busted as shit by that last day.  And for that reason, when I got out of Sendagaya station and was unsure which direction I should go in, I looked carefully at Google Maps to try and be sure I knew where the entrance was.  This was a futile move, because apparently the main gate for Shinjuku Gyoen is no longer the original location.  There's apparently a sign that points you in the right direction, but it's not visible when you come OUT of the station, so that's a fail on somebody's part (it might even be mine).

The park is pretty big, so I also scoped out Google Maps to try and figure out where I was going, rather than aimlessly wandering around.  If aimless wandering is your thing, more power to you - Shinjuku Gyoen is a beautiful park - but I was going back to Otome Road after the park, because the Lashinbang there had been working on a grand reopening the night before, and I still had money I needed to spend!  So I knew roughly where I needed to go before I entered the park, and headed in the direction of a small picnic shelter immediately.

In the movie, this is where the two main characters bump into each other, and gradually get to know one another.  For the greatest "pilgrimage" value it really should have been a rainy school day, but a sunny Saturday was all I had left.  The male protagonist talks about how when it's rainy, he can't go to school - something draws him down different paths.  He sits and draws on the bench while the woman he meets there drinks canned coffee.  I sat down and drew in my sketchbook for a while to try and get into the right mood, but - like the staircase at the end of Your Name - it seemed like this had become a bit of a tourist attraction, so I tried not to monopolize it for too long.  

Close to the shelter is a building called Goryo-tei (or the Taiwan Pavilion).  It's a pretty distinctive building and the landmark that let me know exactly where to find the correct shelter.  The pond stretches around both areas, and everything was green - kind of a shock coming from Mongolia, where only now is it turning fully green.

Another thing I was looking forward to is the wisteria.  I'd been in Japan for nearly a week, and although I'd seen it here and there, I hadn't yet had the chance to smell it.  In case you don't know, wisteria has the most amazing fragrance, and it seems strange to me that it's not used in more perfumes or candles.  So I finally got the chance to experience it - the first time in 4 years, since it only blooms in spring.

I struggled with Tokyo when I first moved to Japan.  There's a feeling of magic and history that saturates the streets of Kyoto that's just not apparent in Tokyo.  However, over the 2 years I lived in Yokohama, I slowly discovered it, hiding in small shrines by the wayside and the occasional crumbling building; it doesn't reveal itself for just anyone.  I think this is one of the reasons I love Makoto Shinkai's films so much.  He gets it - he notices the way two trains veer away from each other, or the potential in hiding from the rain.  It was nice to see it again in my last night in town.

Woman of Culture

Once upon a time I went to the Louvre, and in the Louvre, there are all these paintings by Rubens commissioned by Catherine de Medici.  Apparently (I say, because apparently I did not post a blog of my thoughts from the Louvre) these were intended to be a kind of visual biography, but I remember thinking at the time that if I was a hot blooded Italian woman who was also queen, I would have been appalled at the lack of good looking nekkid dudes.  Not a single eggplant in the whole cornucopia, if you catch my drift, and that just seemed wrong.  I would have called Peter-Paul into the palace and said, “Lovely work as usual, Ruby, but could you add a few naked men?  Why are they naked?  Has anyone ever asked why the women in paintings are nude…there are literally tits out all over the place, JUST GO AND PAINT THEM!” 

Well, now I have a theory about that.  Apparently, the problem was that she just wasn’t a fujoshi.  At some point during the pandemic, I read an article about a temple near Niigata, Kugamiyama Kokujou-ji.  Now, if you’ve read any of my Japan posts at all you may find yourself thinking, “Oh.  Goody.  Another temple she just HAD to visit.  #sarcasm.”  My retort would be that in this quirky country called Japan there’s ALWAYS something new to discover, even when it comes to something as seemingly redundant as Buddhist temples.

So here’s the story.  Kugamiyama Kokujou-Ji came up with the brilliant plan that they could get more visitors by adding some art to the temple.  Enter my new favorite nihonga artist, KIMURA Ryoko.  The panels cover the external walls of the main temple, and feature - among others - the original Minamoto-kun (aka Minamoto no Yoshitsune) and a demon (oni) named Shuten-Doji.

There is, however, one slight, tiiiiny little difference between Kimura Sensei’s work and how these figures are normally portrayed.  Namely, a LOT less clothing.  Okay, so just in case you’re new around here, there’s a subculture of women (originally Asian ones, but it has become a global phenomenon) that enjoy stories and artwork depicting relationships between men.  Of course, there is a whole range of what kind of relationships those are, with a whole lot of ambiguity, particularly at the more innocent end of the spectrum.  There’s probably a lot to be analyzed here about the patriarchy, the female gaze, etc, but my master’s degree is a distant memory, with two years’ worth of dust on the ol’APA-style handbook, so - if this is news to you - suffice it to say that two beautiful men are ALWAYS better than one.

Ok, and if you’re into history and lore, you might realize - for example - that it was an older member of the famous military clan (Minamoto-senpai, if you will), Minamoto no Yorimitsu, who dealt with Shuten-doji.  But if you’re like me, that’s not what y’all are here for.

I mean, if it was, I guess Minamoto Raiko with Shuten-Doji would make a helluva enemies-to-lovers trope, but I digress.

Anywho.  All of the figures in the the murals have some kind of connection to the temple (according to Sora News, anyways - I’m having a hard enough time typing this on my broken keyboard as the Shinkansen darts in and out of mountains to be very thorough in my research).  Apparently Kimura’s vision was to depict all of them living in harmony, even though they were from different times and different backgrounds.  Kinda cheesy, I know, but it’s a good excuse to paint dudes chilling in a hot tub, and nobody hates an onsen episode.  I mean, not unless you also hate fun.

The link that originally introduced me to this cultural wonder also reported that the murals were slated to be removed about a year ago.  Apparently not everyone appreciates the nude male form, or thinks it’s appropriate decor for a temple.  Japan was still closed to tourism back then, and there may have been some gnashing of teeth when I thought that I’d miss it…at least until I discovered Kimura’s Instagram, which features even more work with similar style and content.  Still, there’s something to be said for viewing art in specific contexts, so when I realized I was going to be chilling my heels in Toyama once again, I looked up Kokujou-Ji and was delighted to see that recent photos on Google Maps included the paintings.

One of the things about seeing these in person was I could tell that they were not painted with nihonga’s hand-mixed pigment paints.  This makes sense, as binder for the pigments is water-soluble, and thus susceptible to the weather.  Unless I’m mistaken, Kimura used acrylic, which is much more durable.  If you’re familiar with the anime Hoozuki no Reitetsu, there’s an episode in which Hoozuki gets one of his lackeys to repaint a mural in hell which has weathered over the years.  At the end, it’s revealed that the original painting was by Hokusai.  That is the last thing we’d want happening to these masterpieces, so even though I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to see the way the pigments sparkled in the sunlight, I have to admit that this is for the best.

All that said, Kokujou-Ji is a pain in the ass to get to.  Google Maps clocked it at no less than 3 hours in either direction.  By the time I got to Yoshida station, I decided that time is money, and hailed a cab to take me up the mountain (the bus that would get me “close” would have taken an hour, and I would have had to hike 40 minutes after that!). When I went to Zao to see the foxes and I was frustrated by the lack of a bus, I told myself that someday I’d be back in Japan and I wouldn’t have to worry about taking a taxi all by myself, no matter how much it cost.

Well, that day finally came…and we’re not going to talk about how much that round trip taxi cost, because it now holds the record for my most expensive taxi ride in Japan.  Possibly of all time, but I’m still on vacation for 48 more hours, so I can’t account for inflation and conversion rates.  Besides which, I honestly don’t care.  It was 100% worth it to me to get to see the paintings, and you can factor in the lack of sweat from climbing a mountain as inflation, and the helpful tip that I return via a different station in order to catch the Shinkansen as the conversion rate.