My Kind of People

I'm not sure if you've ever had the chance to suddenly realize that you finally fit in.  I felt that for the first time in college, when I switched from attempting to be a music major to being an art major.  I never actually made it into the conservatory at UMKC - for whatever reason, their flute professor weighed me and found me wanting - but I took a lot of the basic music courses my first year, anticipating that I'd get in on my second try.  When I took my first art course, I was thankful that I didn't - I understood the art students.  They were relaxed and genuine in a way that the music students I knew never were.  They got me.

I kind of feel that way now in Japan.  I get the Japanese.  They are quirky and kinky and silent.  They love cartoons and cute things and crazy stuff like sitting outside and watching the moon.  And today I got to go check out two events that had me thinking I should have been born Japanese - a doll memorial and a cat parade.

Probably I should have saved the doll market for this blog, but honestly when I wrote last week's post I had forgotten the Ningyou Kanshasai was happening today at Meiji Jingu until I was looking through my Google calendar.  I've been to Meiji Jingu before, back in 2014, and even though it was kind of neat being able to recognize it when it showed up in an anime, I hadn't been that impressed.  Back then it was sunny and there were more people strolling the paths of Yoyogi Park, where the temple is located, than standing around in the temple.

Not so today...it was packed, and it was raining.  Maybe that will start to give you an idea of how important this ceremony is in Japan.  Last week I kind of briefly mentioned that dolls are culturally important here.  And by dolls, I mean everything from puppets to plushies - if you look at the first photo you might begin to get an idea of the variety of toys that were presented at the temple today.  Conspicuous for their absence, though, were anime figures, presumably because regardless of what they look like and the use to which you put them, they are collector's items and worth money, so no genteel retirement for them.

Now, if you are the kind of person who didn't cry at the end of Toy Story 3, you might not understand why anyone would feel the need to say thank you to the toys they played with as a child.  If you did, I doubt you need any sort of explanation about dolls having souls.  For me personally, the idea of losing my "cat" Peppermint is so scary that I don't take her out much anymore.  So I found it really sweet to see everyone lined up in the rain, holding their bags of dolls, writing notes of thanks.

Now, let's say I did regale you with the history of the doll, and explain about their souls and the way they absorb a child's misfortunes, and you were not convinced.  Let me tell you a little story.  When we were kids, my great-grandmother had a room full of dolls in her house.  I don't remember the stories of most of them - I think my parents gave her at least a couple - but I remember how much I loved that room.  Each doll was different and special.  On the other hand, most of the cousins found the doll room creepy.  Before you scoff at the sentimentality that would lead a country to create a ceremony to properly send off their dolls' souls, ask yourself if you've ever had a doll give you the heebie jeebies.  And then see if you find the idea so far fetched. 

As for me, one corner of the display had a very kawaii miniature set of Hina Matsuri dolls that were all bunnies, and I was tempted to help them find a new lease on life at Babysis' house, but I was afraid one or both of us would end up with cursed-doll karma, so I left them to their fate and went on to Kagurazaka.

Another fun childhood story for you - one time my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I told her I wanted to be a cat.  My mom very kindly explained that it didn't work that way, and I couldn't be a cat when I grew up...but my mother had never been to Japan, or she might have said differently.  Unlike almost every other place I've lived in Asia, the Japanese actually like cats.  And since they like cats, and they like pretty people (male, female, and everything in between), it makes TOTAL SENSE to put the two together (unlike, you know, monkeys and ponies, for those of you who've been to Skullcrusher Mountain).

So I definitely had to check out the Bakeneko Parade, since it was basically the fulfillment of my childhood ambition.  When I stepped out of the train station, I wasn't totally sure if I was in the right spot.  I'd checked to be sure it would still happen if it was raining before I left the house, but I didn't see anything to indicate that the area was saturated with cat people.  And then I heard the strains of music piping from up the hill, so I headed in that direction, and was delighted to find the Pipe and Tabor Society of Japan all in their nyanniest cat gear.*

Across the street there were several booths set up - one selling some tasty mini-cupcakes with cat decorations, others doing facepaint.  At that point, there weren't a lot of people, and I wondered if it was worth sticking around.  I wandered up the street a little, finding a shrine, where a wedding was being held (they were not, unfortunately, dressed like cats), and generally enjoying the neighborhood.  Apparently the cat in the Natsume Soseki (one of Japan's greatest novelists) book is from Kagurazaka, and that's why the parade takes place here.  I haven't read any of his works - yet...let's hope that Barnes and Noble doesn't fail me - but if it was up to me I'd pick a place from Haruki Murakami's novels, since they pretty much all feature cats.

Another famous resident of the former geisha district is Kobo-chan, a manga character from the 80's.  A couple of years back they put a statue of him up, and the locals dress him up for the season, which means he was wearing cat ears today, too.

I headed back to where the pipe and tabors had been playing, and was happy to see that there were even more people (and bagpipes.  I can't remember the last time I heard "Scotland the Brave," and I found myself wishing I knew the words - I've been in a singing mood lately).  One of the things that I loved the most about today was that everyone participated - foreigners, Japanese, old, young...real cats.  I seriously have no idea how this guys trained his cat to be so chill, but she didn't mind riding around the crowds on his shoulder.

I didn't stay for the whole thing in the end - my feet were already making their protest known, and I didn't really want to be home late, so I started walking back toward the station around 2.  On the ride back to Yomaha the trains caterwauled and I planned out what I'll do for my vacation in a week.  While I didn't mind the rain on my parade today in the least (particularly because it meant that Sports day got sort of cancelled again yesterday), I kind of hope it'll lay off around the inland sea next week.  If not, I guess my shoes will smell even worse by the time I get back, and that will be okay, too.

Spoiled Brat Cats

So yesterday I decided on an alternate career path, should too many years on the shelf past my expiration date finally drive me bat-shit crazy and make me no longer fit to teach because I'm too broke from buying cat food (instead of supplemental art supplies) and too busy taking care of kittes (instead of worrying over planning and whatnot):  I will move to Japan and open a cat cafe.

I told Blondie that I would like to go to one of the Japanese islands totally inhabited by feral cats, if I only had more time, and she told me I should go to a cat cafe instead.  I'd heard of them before - apparently because a lot of apartments don't allow pets, entrepreneurs have seen a way to fill this gap in people's lives - but I had no idea where I would find one.  Well, it just so happened that I was killing time waiting for the Robot Restaurant to open (OH JUST YOU WAIT FOR THAT ONE!) and lo and behold, I stumbled across one.  So I shrugged my shoulders, went, "What the hell?!?" and made my way up to the 6th floor of a building in Shinjuku, where Calico Cat Cafe was located.

Just in case you don't know, I love cats.  I routinely wind my ninth graders up with arguments about why cats are better than dogs.  I like the personality of cats, how they really seem not to give a fuck, and their attitude that of COURSE you are going to take care of them, and they might even let you pet them for it.  Well, this sort of attitude makes the idea of having a business where people come to play with your cats completely ridiculous.

Also - in case you annoy the Deity - look for
one smaller than you are.

I enjoy telling people the difference between a dog and a cat.  A dog thinks, "OH BOY THESE PEOPLE THEY TAKE CARE OF ME THEY LOVE ME AND FEED ME THEY MUST BE GODS!"

A cat thinks, "Hmm.  I have these people.  They love me.  They feed me.  They take care of me...  I must be a god."

These cafe cats have definitely been spoiled.  Normal cats are temperamental - these cats completely ignore you unless you have the chicken the cafe sells to feed them with.  If they're sleeping, they will let you pet them because they can't be bothered doing anything about it, but your main attraction to them is the chicken in your hand, and if you hold out your hand to let them inspect you before you try to pet them (as is polite with most animals, except dogs, who would rather sniff your butt or your crotch), and they find you've got no chicken for them, you are dead to them, Mortal.  DEAD.

Besides that, cats all have such varied purrsonalities (see what I did there?)  I found myself wondering if they'd had to find new homes for any cats because they couldn't get along.  I saw a little chasing, but other than this cat on this poster most of the cats seemed to live and let live.  This girl, on the other hand, I tried to pet when I first got to the cafe, and only narrowly avoided a bite for my troubles.  Later I saw the sign.  And it opened up my eyes...

In fact there was a whole book of cat profiles to let you know their names, breeds, and birthdays.  It was kind of fun flipping through and seeing how many breeds of cats I knew (that crazy cat lady career?  It's not totally out of the realm of possibility for me.  I really loved cats as a girl.  Possibly I thought it was my purpose in life to take care of them.  In fact, I may have once told my family I wanted to have a hundred cats when I grew up).

The cat cafe has rules.  Don't wake the cats up, but you can pet them while they sleep (which is good, considering how much of a day cats spend asleep).  Don't chase the cats.  In fact, their suggestion is to sit down, relax, and read a book, which is honestly a pretty good strategy, but ain't nobody got time for that.  It cost me about $10 for an hour at the Calico, and considering how many people bought food for the cats, I have a feeling that's pure profit for them.  Anyways, it was an interesting peek into a different angle of modern Japanese culture, as opposed to the more traditional parts of their culture I'd been experiencing.

A Lass in Lhasa

If Dorothy had been Korean, she could have said, "We're not in Bundang anymore, Toto."  That is what I want to say, sitting here in a Kathmandu internet cafe.  It is nowhere near as comfy as a PCbang in Korea, nor is their speed as fast, which is why I'm actually typing this into my hotmail account while blogger is uploading my photos.  Luckily my feet need a break from wandering - I walked from Patan's Durbar square to Kathmandu's Durbar square to the end of Thamel and back to my hostel yesterday, which is a lot of walking on damaged feet.  Totally worth it, even if I did feel like I was melting, but a nice, chillaxed day of blogging and (later this afternoon) a cooking class will make a nice change.

Anyways, more about Tibet.  I got to Lhasa on the second day of my trip.  I had been looking forward to it for.  ev.  er.  I could see Potala Palace before we even got close, and that was thrilling.  And then we got closer, and it looked like just another Chinese city.  That was disappointing, to say the least, realizing it was not the Shang-ri-La I'd been dreaming of, no matter how much I'd been expecting it.  Then we got to the area I stayed in, just outside the Barkhor Kora (pilgrim circuit), and the Chinese part of the city was blocked out.  The buildings are very traditional, and either white-washed, or yellow-washed, or red-washed, or some combination of the three.  It is some kind of wash.  I found this out when I brushed my hand along the edge of a temple and it turned my hand a bricky color.

 

The Barkhor circuit is built in a square around Jokhang temple, and with three hours to spare between being left at my hotel and meeting my guide, the Energizer Bunny (yes, that is the nickname I'm giving her - she keeps going, and going, and going), I decided to go exploring.  You'd think that between it being a square and my incredible sense of direction, that it would be impossible to get lost.  Well, I didn't get lost, but it was a near thing.  Mostly because my hostel wasn't actually ON the square, so I couldn't just keep going until I stumbled across it.  Also, something new I learned - you can save a map on a Galaxy note.  It remembers what you've panned over, anyways, but having a saved map of where you're going is actually really convenient if you don't want to look like a total noob dragging your guidebook with you everywhere.

As I mentioned in the last post, I think the Tibetans are the most pious people I've ever had the privilege to meet.  The first day with the Energizer Bunny, I was impressed, because not only did she KNOW all sorts of things about Buddhism (which makes sense as a guide), she actually practiced it, buying butter to add to the lamps and doing her prostrations before telling me about the chapels we were in.  When we got into Lhasa I got to see this on a greater scale.  Everywhere people were burning incense, rotating prayer wheels, even completing the Kora by prostrating themselves every few steps.  That means that they kneel down, stretch themselves out fully, press their head to the ground, drop their prayer beads, stand up, take a few steps to where their prayer beads are, and repeat until they have circled the temple.  And besides this outward manifestation of their faith, they really seemed to be a kind, patient, peaceful people, actually living what they believe, which is more than I can say for practitioners of some religions. 

As peaceful and kind as they are, they aren't total slaves to tradition.  I loved the colorful hairdos that they women (and some men) had - they braid colored thread into their hair and around their head like a coronet (I tried this myself, but my hair is not quite long enough yet).  Energizer Bunny explained that this was something married women do; that before they marry, most Tibetan girls wear jeans and t-shirts, only trading them in for more traditional clothes when they get hitched.  Everyone everywhere had cell phones, too, and most of the hotels had wifi, although it didn't always work.  Dhondup actually has his own facebook page and organizes things independently; it was part of the reason I decided to book my tour through him, rather than a Chinese agency - I wanted my time in Tibet to benefit the Tibetan people as much as possible.  Also, he had a lot of good feedback on Lonely Planet's Tibet forum.

Oh, and apparently the hairstyle isn't just for married women - I came across these little girls while I was exploring, with threads braided into their hair, too, and they were too dang cute!  Most of the Tibetans I met didn't mind me taking their photo, which was cool.

Visiting Potala Palace was probably the best part of my stay in Lhasa.  It just has so much history, and is stunning.  The colors inside it were unbelievable, and the view you get from up there, while not what it would have been sixty years ago, is still pretty spectacular.  However, this was the saddest part of my trip as well.  The Energizer showed me the different tombs of past Dalai Lamas, and you can't help but think about the fact that the current Dalai Lama, the man whose house this really is, is in exile, and when he dies, will probably not be laid to rest here.  I know it's just a house (okay, a palace, in fact, and in part a temple), but if I think about not being able to go home and see my family ever again, it breaks my heart.

One other thing I learned about Tibetans last week: they actually like cats.  As a general rule, Asians don't like cats.  Koreans don't, Chinese don't, Mongolians don't (yes, I know that's not all of Asia, but it's a significant chunk, right?)  Tibetans don't mind them, and that was nice to see.  The Energizer said that Tibetans keep cats in their homes and take their dogs with them on their pilgrim routes, and while the cats I saw weren't spoiled like their American counterparts, they didn't run off scared when you try to pet them.  And you've got to love a people that like cats.

The Eye of the Tiger

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"

-William Blake

My real purpose in visiting Harbin was to see the snow and ice sculptures, good art teacher that I am.  Good traveler that I am, I was not about to visit a city without seeing everything it had to offer.  I have been experimenting with how I plan my travels this year.  It started with Easter Island - I wasn't going to buy the whole Chile Lonely Planet when I was only going to one, small island, so I bought the digital chapter, printed it, and brought it along.  It worked pretty well but I felt like a fool, paging through the loose prints as I was going along.  So after I bought the guides for Sichuan and Shaanxi provinces, I decided I needed a notebook to assemble the stuff I wanted to take with me.  Unfortunately, it was after I bought those two that I realized I wanted to go to Harbin as well, and buying single PDF chapters was starting to get expensive, so I printed off the Wikitravel page for Harbin and used it, instead.  This was great, because it was free, but not as satisfactory as LP, still, because it doesn't include info about wifi at restaurants and whatever.

At any rate, it was while I was looking through these pages that I was reminded that Harbin has a Siberian Tiger Preserve.  I've read Lost on Planet China by J. Maarten Troost, and he talks about it, but I'd forgotten, so I quickly put it at the top of The List of Things I Must Do in Harbin.

I am just as far from a biologist as you can get, as Socrates would be glad to point out if I still talked to him.  So I don't know if all the cries of animal cruelty you will read on Trip Advisor are justified or not.  The Siberian tigers, at any rate, seemed pretty happy with their lot in life.  It beats being extinct, I reckon.  I'm not sure if these guys could ever return to the wild after being fed three square meals a day by a bus that chugged along, plopping out gobs of raw meat for them, but that might be a completely moot point.  They do try to train them for it, but I don't know if their instincts would survive the easy life or not.  It was amazing to see them so close, and how similar they sometimes act to domestic cats.  Case in point: the dangling chicken.

What kind of animal park would deny you a chance to feed the animals?  (The American kind, that's what kind, but I'm hardly one to talk - my pinky finger narrowly escaped an encounter with an ostrich at a very young age).  There are a variety of animals you can dangle out of the enclosed passageway to tempt the tigers, but the chickens are the cheapest, and that is what one of the tourists in my group bought.  Now it was difficult to ignore the terrified squawks of the pathetic old hen.  She looked a little rough around the edges, so I tried to reassure myself

that she had, no doubt, lived a long and full life.  If I could ignore the poor chicken's terror, it was easy to see my sweet little Barnabas in the big fierce tiger - the way he jumped up to try and get his snack was akin to teasing my cat with a toy mouse.

We really out to be astounded that we let cats live with us.  Thousands of years of domesticity, and they're still not that far removed from the wild.  (Don't believe me?  Check this out...)

 

But then, even knowing this tiger has an instinct-driven need to kill me and eat me,  he was so fuzzy, and so cute rolled over on his back like that, that if I could go down there and give his belly a good rub I just.  might.  do it.  Whether that's insane or not.  What can I say?  I'm a cat lover. 

And speaking of cat lovers....uhh, yeah, enough said.

All that aside, in the end I saw cruelty that could not be ignored or explained away.  There were pens toward the end with other kinds of big cats.  It is strange to think of a tiger living and thriving in the snow, but that's exactly what Siberians do.  I can't think of many other cats that are built for cold temperatures - maybe bobcats or cougars?  I can think of lots of cats that AREN'T cold weather cats.

Leopards aren't.

White tigers aren't (they seem like they would be, I know, but in fact they're a mutation of the Bengal Tiger).

Lions aren't.  This is actually a liger, a cross between a lion and a tiger for those few people who haven't seen Napoleon Dynamite, but they had regular lions, as well.  This poor guy was shivering as he lay huddled in the corner on the cold hard ground.

And jaguars aren't. 

Maybe the state-of-the-art cat house at the Doorly Zoo in Omaha has spoiled me.  Surely the slack-jawed yokels who were shouting at the tigers trying to get a reaction out of them are not the same people running the establishment.  Surely a tiger park knows how to take care of its investment, and wouldn't endanger such very expensive animals by exposing them to temperatures they can't handle.

I hope not, at any rate.