Into the Black City

 My last spring break as a teacher (at least for a good long while) is over.  On one hand, this means that I won't have to experience the way a week can stretch infinitely at the end of a quarter while you pray you survive long enough to be free of the children for at least a few short days of travel.  On the other hand, it means I'm going to be too broke to actually have a few short days of travel...unless I break my piggy bank.  This is something that I'm trying to avoid, but after a year Stateside I may be desperate enough.  I have hope that Minneapolis will be lively enough to keep me from noticing all the places I haven't gone.

Ever since the Evil One moved to Armenia I've been intending to go visit.  After all, we were practically neighbors...or so I told myself.*  I was aware, on some level, that it was trickier to get to the other end of central Asia than I was telling myself, since Her Evilness and co. came to visit two years ago, but you have to actually EXPERIENCE it to realize the truth.  I've said it before.  I'll say it again, especially since it may be the last time I do so for two years: getting there is NOT half the fun.  See, flights into Yerevan are sporadic.  What the Evil One did - and what she suggested to me - was to fly through Istanbul into Tblisi, which is in Georgia.  Four hours away from Yerevan.  Which either meant another flight - if there was one when I needed it (there wasn't) or ground transportation.  She suggested a taxi.  I said a bus was fine (I am not living on a state department salary, after all).  And then she booked and paid for a taxi anyways, and had it take me directly to Gyumri - the first place that I mentioned wanting to visit - and met me there, claiming that it made it easier for her (because it did - no worrying about me while also avoiding a 8-hour drive round trip).

I was struck pretty hard through the drive by how similar Georgia (and later Armenia) felt.  Topographically as well as the nature and some of the buildings gave me the impression that Mongolia and Greece got together and had a love child, then gave it to Russia to raise.  My driver rushed along nice, smooth roads til we got to the border crossing - I think my fifth time crossing by land.**  Since these days we mostly travel internationally by plane, it's easy to forget that you typically have to pass immigration twice - as a departure and as an arrival - but it was kind of a trip to be dropped off by the driver, walk through Georgian immigration just a few hours after they stamped my passport at the airport, drive over a river, get out and walk through Armenian immigration with my luggage, because this time I also had to go through customs.  Not my weirdest land crossing, but definitely interesting.

The taxi made a brief stop for food (ie, snacks) and the bathroom just past the border, and then we wound through a canyon pretty much all the way to Gyumri, another 3 hours.  The views were stunning and bleak by turns - I would have loved to make the driver stop at several points for photos, but since he was getting paid as a taxi driver, not a tour driver, I went easy on him.  

Finally I made it to the old town, where the Evil One had booked us into the Grand Apricot hotel.  She and her spawn came out and retrieved me from the driver and escorted me along a walking street before giving me the "grand tour" of my hotel room, which had been ransacked for pillows by the Lesser of Two Evils.  After a short break, we all went out wandering.

The Armenians are amazing stone workers, and if I'd had more time, I would have taken her Evilness up on the offer to find me a carving class to take.  Instead, I just had to admire it and take photos ad nauseum.  The stone many of the buildings and carvings are made from is called tuff, a kind of sedimentary stone made from volcanic ash.  Apparently the city planners of Gyumri - formerly known as Aleksandropol - had an emo streak, because they primarily used the black tuff for their masonry.  And since I have a bit of an emo streak myself, of course I loved it...now I just have to figure out how to work it into a piece (maybe embossed paper???)

My first morning in Armenia I woke up bright and early for the thing that had brought me to Gyumri - dolls.  Of course.  The Family Evil slept in while I walked past churches to buy a loaf of bread and sit in the fresh morning air eating a snack, then wandered the rest of the way over to Naro Dolls.

It was a little off the beaten track, but 100% worth it!  I loved meeting another craftsman - she hand sews and stuffs the dolls, using some cloth accessories as well as the painting.  She even had a "big sister" doll based on the same design that I chose, which I really loved.  Although it was different from the dolls I usually make, it was fun and I learned a new technique for the hair that I might have to try with my own dolls someday.  And her hospitality was so sweet - when I told her I didn't drink coffee or tea, instead she brought me a cup of water in one of Gyumri's special crafts - a metal cup that sings!  It was a pretty long workshop, and by the time Anahid (as Evil named her) was finished, it was about lunch time, so I got to try my first lavash, too, and it was delicious.

Finally I headed back to the hotel to force the sleepyheads to get moving.  It was Evil's birthday, after all, so even if a lie-in was called for, we definitely needed to go see something.  We discussed what we should do next, and after wandering a bit ended up at the Black Fortress.

Once upon a time, of course, it was an actual military fortification.  The hill it sits on gives a strong advantage, with views of the countryside (ie, the Turkish border) all around...not to mention a lot of steps, if you count that sort of thing.  But these days, it's used primarily for performances.  I checked out the acoustics, much to the mortification of the Lesser of Two Evils, who refused to sing songs from Frozen with me, even though we were about the only people there.  As we were about to leave, the caretaker came and offered to show us the museum, as well - apparently it kind of opens on an as-needed basis.  We also got a nice view of Gyumri's Mother Armenia statue.

And that was about it.  The next day, we visited the Museum of the Two Sisters - an art museum showcasing the work of two women from Gyumri - and stopped at HayAr jewelry on our way out of town, where I got to buy a beautiful pomegranate necklace made of recycled bullet casings.  Then we were on our way to Yerevan.

*Yes, we physically lived closer to one another her first go-round - her in India, me in the Emirates - but Mongolia and Armenia feel closer on a mental level.  Yes, my brain is a crazy, crazy place.

**I've also crossed US-Canada in 1989, South-North Korea in 2007, Greece-Turkey in 2008, and China-Nepal in 2013

This Hina's Ningyo

It's been almost four years since I started making hand-sewn plushies.  They show up in my blog every once in a while, but I haven't dedicated an entire post to them since 2016, back in my tender youth when I hadn't even won a plush prize yet.  Well, a lot's changed since then, and since yesterday was Hina Matsuri whether it's celebrated here or not, I decided it was time to do an update.

I thought the other day about all of the ideas I've had over the years, and the tricks I tried to make them work.  They range from giving Aizawa hair that flips up when he uses his quirk to accessories (shoes, hats, goggles, swords, etc) to different kinds of ears and facial features.  I wrote about the Cricut that a friend gave me last year, but it wasn't until my sister-in-law suggested it that I decided to try using iron-on vinyl for my plushies' clothes.  I happened to be in the middle of Tsukishima at the time, which was perfect.  Originally I was only going to paint on his number, but when I realized I could get every element of his uniform cut out perfectly and ironed on together, I went all in.  It was so easy I realized I could make up the uniforms of all the Karasuno boys, and if I ever get to the point where I sell at a con, it would make stocking that much easier....instead of bringing x-number of each design, I could just bring the number of bodies I hoped to sell, and assemble the uniforms and hairpieces as they sold.

AnimeIowa gets a shout-out every year around July, so you six faithful readers probably know that I've won prizes the last three years, for Sesshoumaru, Kuriyama Mirai, and last year Sugimoto and Asirpa.  But last year while I was waiting for news about AI 2019 I discovered a "craftalong" for Desert Bus for Hope (a fundraiser for Child's Play - a charity that improves the lives of kids undergoing medical treatment or living in domestic violence shelters).  I decided I wanted to participate, and ended up donating Link and Zelda plushies I'd made.  I thought they would be auctioned off and might raise a couple hundred dollars at most, but instead, they were used for a "raffle" kind of prize.  During one hour of the fundraiser, each donation of a certain amount (and multiples thereof) resulted in an entry, and at the end of the hour a winner was drawn.  I couldn't believe that Link and Zelda raised just over $2200, but I was really happy that my hobby - which, let's face it, is kind of silly - was able to contribute in a pretty tangible way.

Giving might as well be my theme for this year in plush.  Back at Christmas I decided to surprise The Evil One by showing up in California during her home leave, in spite of telling her I just wouldn't be able to make it.  My dastardly scheme involved a phantom package with gifts that I was supposedly sending to her parents' house, one of which was a plushie for her spawn, who loves Darth Vader.  I haven't made that many of these guys specifically to give away, but there's just something about this kid who loves Lord Vader that warmed the cockleburrs of my heart, so I spent the first week or so of vacation posting pictures of the progress on Instagram and apologizing that the package wouldn't be there when they first got there (part of my deception, you see).  And then I showed up at their layover in Denver and went on to celebrate with them in sunny California.  Which was all the better, because it meant I got to see her reaction to Little Lord Vader - she kept turning to me in the car and talking about his features, and saying, "I like him.  I love him!"  And when Evil sent me this photo of her daughter snuggled up with the Sith lord, I swear my heart grew three sizes.

One of the ironic things about the fact that I'm pretty much stuck at home with nothing to do while Covid-19 rages on is that there have been times when I wished for nothing but time to watch anime and sew.  As the weeks have dragged on, it's kind of gotten old.  However, it has given me the ability to focus long enough to solve some design issues I'd been grappling with.  About a year ago I decided to try making a sitting plush, but gave up when I couldn't figure out how to make Kitaro's shorts fit.  Since I threw away the body when I left Japan, I had to re-engineer his pattern before getting to the shorts, but during our Tsagaan Sar (but-not-really-because-the-government-said-No) break, I worked most of it out.  It's a design I want to play with a little more, because he doesn't quite sit up on his own, but at this point I'm more concerned with finishing his hair and drilling the holes for his geta, because he may become an entry for this year's Mini-Festival.

So what's next?  Well, first I have to finish my waifu, Hinawa (the other contender for this year's Mini-Festival entry), and then we'll see.  I have an outfit for a plush that I've been tinkering with for at least two years, but when I lost interest in the character my motivation also waned.  However, now I'm thinking that he might end up being my first ever art abandonment project - I could leave him in Ikebukuro somewhere and I'm sure someone would find him and appreciate him.  Like I said, this year's plushie theme is apparently giving.

Statue of Limitations

With two Golden days left, I got back to Tokyo, and even convinced myself to go to church today...although afterwards I came home to revel the rest of the day away lying in my OWN bed, reading.  Which is probably where I should still be, but my dedication to you, oh six faithful readers, knows no bounds.

I managed to find one more magical place to check out in Toyama, Sotoshu Chokei-Ji.  Perched up on a hillside on the west side of the Jinzu Kawa, the river that splits the city, it's home to 500 rakan, statues of Buddhist disciples.  I've come across temples with schloads of these little statues before, most notably at Nenbutsu-Ji, several trips to Kyoto in the past.  What I hadn't really thought about before was why these feature in Buddhist temples.  I hadn't realized before researching this blog post that it was a theme, not only in sculpture (landscaping??  Installation???  I'm not sure how you'd classify this, artistically speaking) but also in painting.  In Japan it seems like they tend to be memorial in nature, although I wasn't able to track down a specific explanation for the Gohyaku Rakan at Chokei-ji.

But what does seem to be true, not only about the rakan in Toyama but also at other temples is that each is an individual.  You might be wondering if it's even possible to create 500 variations on the "bald guy in a robe" formula.  In fact, I was reminded (particularly when facing this rakan) of a recent episode of my favorite current anime, Dororo, of a sculptor who tried - and failed - to give a fierce face to a Fudo statue.  However, as I made my way from level to level, it seemed like the artists who created these rakan managed it.  It's possible I was secretly hoping to find one with an arrow on its head, but apparently these guys never met Aang. 

This grouping had a different feel to it than the 1200 at Nenbutsu-Ji.  More structured, I guess is the way I'd describe it.  The sculptures and their stone lanterns were arranged on terraces ascending the hillside.  I found myself wishing it was fall, since it seemed like all of the trees were Japanese maples.  Since it wasn't, I played with my new photography skillz, trying to capture the textures of the stone and the moss.

On my way up to the temple I passed the Toyama Municipal Folkcraft Village.  I'm pretty sure that I could spend years researching all the different craft traditions of Japan, if only I had the time and money.  Since I have neither, I suppose it's just as well that my studies are generally restricted to dolls.  And here - for once! - I finally managed to find a doll workshop conveniently located and affordably priced.  Sure, it was just a simple ohina-sama doll, but even if it lacked the complexity of my current artist crush, Hiromine Nakamura, I think I did a pretty good job of individualizing mine.  I used my own features and an amalgamation of all my best boys, while simultaneously adhering to aesthetics.  In fact, I could probably make another 499 of them, to create my own take on the Gohyakurakan.  Maybe in my next Japan life.

Barbie Girls

You can tell when winter is almost over.  The plum trees start to blossom, and suddenly there are hina dolls displayed everywhere.  I saw these in the middle of the train station in Shiroishi last month, and saw a similar display in Yokohama Station a week or two ago.  That doesn't mean that winter is quite over, though.  It's been raining throughout the last week, which pissed me right off and was one of the reasons I decided against going to the Nagashibina.  I loved the ritual last year but standing in the cold rain did NOT seem like a fun way to start my Sunday.

This time last year I was filled with unspeakable rage because my fellow Americans were being a bunch of lunatics.  This Hina Matsuri - a festival dedicated to the prosperity and protection of girls - I'm raging again, but you'll have to wait a few months to hear that particular rant.  Suffice it to say that the timing of a holiday concerned with those blessings of prosperity seemed somewhat ironic this year.  (As far as protection goes, nothing makes me feel as safe as toting around the bachi I use for taiko class - and hey - bonus! I can practice while I walk!)

As far as I'm concerned, there was never any question as to whether or not I was going to mark Girls' Day this year with a blog.  (Seriously, people, I make dolls for my hobby.  This was always going to happen).  That said, I did try to find new things to see.  I knew there were several displays around Tokyo, and although I passed over my first choice because I didn't have time after painting on Saturday,* my second choice, though, was just a couple of stops away in Shinjuku.  Keio Plaza Hotel had a special display of tsurushi hina, hanging decorations, along with some works of art that made me think of the paintings Maria's students always paint around this time of year.  Except, you know, better (technically, at least.  I'd argue that a lot more heart goes into the student work).

Just as hina dolls evolved from the doll floating rituals, hanging decorations are an Edo-era tradition that emerged from the desire of less affluent families hoping to participate in the holiday.  Turns out the full hina display is pretty damn pricey, and not everyone could afford them.  Instead, the women of the family would come together to craft small decorations that hung from red cords.

The ones at Keio Plaza were made of kimono silk by quilting artist Mitsuyo Matsuo and her artist group, Himawari.  I've bought a LOT of fabric scraps in the last month or so, and it made me think about how cool it would be to make my own tsurushi hina...but since I already have a backlog of sewing projects I want to make, this probably won't happen anytime soon.  Making my own display, on the other hand, seemed relatively straightforward and not too time consuming.  I've been thinking about using my nendoroids to set up a hina matsuri display ever since I read about the Hatsune Miku hina doll made by Mataro last January.**

I learned a lot about the meanings behind the dolls when I visited the Ando Doll workshop in Kyoto last fall.  I tried to keep it in mind when I made my own Hina Matsuri display, but I didn't have dolls that fit.  The top step is supposed to be the emperor and empress.  Since I didn't have any nendoroids that are couples, I just chose my favorites.  The next step is supposed to be the three court ladies, but I only have two female nendos.  Instead, I made this the warrior step and included my sword boys and Roy Mustang.  The third step is supposed to be the musicians, so I went with a general ntheme of entertainment and called it good.  You might notice that I'm lacking most of the furnishings that go along with the set, but with a move looming there was no way I was buying more crap to pack up.

The VERY sweet icing on this year's doll cake was going to the Strawberry-holic buffet at The Strings Omotesando with Sensei and the Director.  About a month ago I decided I needed to eat as many strawberry desserts as I could before the season is over, and having them all at the same time seemed like a good idea.***

Apparently these buffets have themes.  I mean, besides “strawberries.”  There were at least a couple of other strawberry buffets going on recently, one with the theme of cats and another that featured - wait for it! - Godzilla.  This one was, appropriately enough, doll-themed, with so many Barbies scattered around the buffet and tables that they must have visited every Mandarake on Honshu to round up enough to pull it off.  As far as the food goes, there was a token lunch side, with salads, curry, and the best damn mac and cheese I’ve had since I last made it in Mongolia, but I don’t think anyone wasted too much time on real food.  We were all there for the desserts, and they were excellent.  That said, at 4500 yen we were all keen to get our money’s worth, and it’s possible that all three of us ate more than we should.  I definitely wanted to just lie down and have someone roll me home with a stick; as it was, I went into hibernation mode as soon as I got to my apartment.

I was about to say that was how my Hina Matsuri ended, except that’s not quite true.  I’ve been taking a photography course for my master’s this term, and our current project is light painting.  I originally wanted to work with shrine imagery - I still do, and I’m pretty sure this is going to play into my final portfolio - but then I thought about the nagashi hina and decided - since it was just after Girls’ Day - to make my own as a subject for my photo.  This course has been much harder than I was expecting, but at the same time, I’m pretty happy with some of the photos I got.  I’m still hoping to improve on them by taking photos in the stream near my house, but for now I feel like I have a good start.  

*I'm still hoping to write about the place it was later.  I mean, I probably have to write a Shinsengumi post at some point, right???
**I think I'd have a lot of fun designing other pop culture dolls with them, but the clock is ticking.
***Time has proven otherwise.

Child's Play

Ever since moving to Japan, my adventures have involved riding the rails.  This time around I was staying in one place, and while it is a nice change from several hotels in a week (or a new one every night) I was going to miss long trips on the tracks.  And maybe I even thought I might just take a couple of day trips - there's a cat island out on Lake Biwa, and I meant to take the scenic train out to Kameoka - but it didn't happen.*  And mostly that's just fine.

I also didn't do that doll workshop I mentioned, because sadly, I ain't rich people (we get paid tomorrow and maybe I kept debating up until last night if I could scrape the funds together.  This time maturity won out over my usual impulses).  That said, Ando Doll Shop very kindly invited me to visit the shop anyway and observe.  Since I had a little time to kill before meeting the Kawaii Kingpin this afternoon, I decided to drop in on them.  

The shop was kind of exactly what I would expect a shop selling traditional dolls to be, but haven't actually seen.  They were in the middle of shipping out a huge order when I stopped in, but the lady who had emailed with me about the workshop stopped to show me around, and invited me to take pictures.  The first floor had the workshop where the craftswomen were working on creating the dressing for the dolls.  There were an assortment of different dolls at the front of the shop, but the main showroom was on the second level.  We went up to the second floor and I was blown away by all the Hina dolls, their specialty.  Not only were there different sizes and colors, there were even different styles of faces, some more traditional, others more modern.  While we looked around my guide told me how each level represents something different - the emperor and empress are a wish for a happy marriage, the angry, sad, and happy courtiers on the bottom level, hope for an expressive face, the maidens serving food and drink represent a hope to never go hungry, and the musicians a wish for refinement and culture.  She explained that they currently had a display in a nearby hotel as we stood in front of a display costing 8.8 million yen.  The quality was simply astounding, and made me realize not only why the workshop was so expensive, but also that it was undoubtedly worth every yenny.

When I have money again, I'm totally coming back to make my own doll.  Besides the fact that they were that good, my new friend asked me if I liked anime as we went down the stairs.  She'd noticed Hoozuki hanging from my bag, and we had a bonding moment.  She also told me about the swords of Kyoto exhibit at the National Museum, and if I had more energy at this point in the game I'd definitely be checking that out.

I didn't really intend to turn this into doll week, but it kind of worked out that way.  Heading back from Kuuya-no-taki on Tuesday I passed the Sagano Doll House Museum, and decided I should check it out.

They had a huge assortment of dolls, and I can't remember any of them being Hina ningyo.  Some of them were bigger than actual children.  Others were so tiny I couldn't for the life of me tell you how they put the tiny little kimono together for them.  The ojii-san who sold me my ticket actually came over and showed me their collection of automatons, little mechanical dolls that did simple tasks like tumbling down the stairs.  It was very cool.

The upstairs level had even more dolls, and almost felt like a storage room.  The Japanese have a very broad definition of what a "doll" is - everything from puppets to clay figures could be considered a doll.  The upstairs room was lined with cabinets, and another ring of them divided the outer part of the room from the inner.  Literally all of them filled with clay figures.  Not in a, "Oh look, what a nice display, I can see your collection very clearly," sort of way, but rather in a "I hope you don't intend to bring any more of these home," way.

When you really understand the evolution of Japanese dolls, I think anime figurines actually make total sense.

What I loved the most about the museum was the air it had that reminded me of my Great-Mom's house, specifically her doll room.  Inside the museum time felt as if it were standing still.  The dolls were not new, but rather were old and showed wear.  I think I was the only patron during the time I was visiting, so the silence was thick and had a tangible sound.  The outside of the building was a traditional Japanese garden and you could wander around the grounds.  The plot behind it was a graveyard, adding to that slightly spooky sense of forgotten places.  It was perfect.

I had one more run-in with dolls, also - strangely enough - in Arashiyama.  Thursday morning I decided I would take the so-called "romantic" sightseeing train to Kameoka.  After riding nearly an hour out and wading through the tourists shooting in the bamboo grove I found my way to the train station.  Which was packed and I couldn't get a ticket for another hour and a half.  I decided I had better things to do and started towards what Google Maps told me was the nearest bus stop, conveniently outside of the central tourist area.  On my way, I came across Aightowa Doll Workshop and Cafe.  They had a small gallery where you could see their work, and while the cost of admission was 300 yen, you got three postcards with your admission.  Unlike the dolls in the shop or the museum, these weren't traditional Japanese dolls.  Some appeared to be made of felted wool, others seemed to be sculpted with silk, and there may have been some porcelain ones, too - it was hard to tell.

There were two things that particularly intrigued me.  First, the clothes on the dolls appeared to be all handmade, and were an extraordinary range of styles from around the world.  The fabric the clothes were made from seemed to have been collected from all over the world.  Since I went to two different markets this week looking for either a military uniform to cannibalize or cloth that could pass for it, I had great respect for their attention to detail.  The other thing that caught my attention was the backstory of the place, which was started by the owner to become self-sufficient.  It made me think maybe starting a doll business isn't all that far fetched.  In fact, a friend from my early Mongolia days messaged as I was going into the Saga Doll House to find out if I would be interested in a free Cricut Maker.  Apparently I'm their target audience, and I expect I'll experience a huge level up once I master this most powerful new weapon.  So you'll have that to look forward to reading about this winter.

*Because I puttered around too long in the first case, and because I wasn't willing to waste an hour and a half in Arashiyama waiting for my turn to be a bloody tourist.  But in both cases, I did try.  I'm not sure that makes either better.

Guise and Dolls

I may have mentioned it before, but Japan has a huge doll culture, going back a long time.  One part of this culture is Hina Matsuri, or the Girls Festival.  This festival involves setting up an ornate display of imperial court dolls, which - like a lot of Japan's dolls - are believed to absorb misfortunes, in this case of the girls of the home.

This weekend was Hina Matsuri, but this post actually began last week, with the precursor to Hina Matsuri - Nagashibina.  In the past, rather than just set the dolls up and wish for good luck, the tradition was to release the dolls on the river, and they would carry the bad luck and catastrophes away with them.  But there are very few places that still celebrate Nagashibina.  Fortunately I'm just a "short" ride from old Edo.  On the banks of the Sumida River each year they hold a Nagashibina ceremony, and since the Tokyo 2nd Ward now meets in the afternoon, I saw no reason not to check it out.

Online it mentioned that the ceremony would be cancelled if it rained, and as I got dressed I noticed that it was pretty gray out, but I headed towards Asakusa anyways.  I was worried about being able to find the right spot, but once I made it over to the Sumida River, it was pretty easy to figure it out - I haven't seen anything that big and pink since....well, never mind.  For the record, it took place on the Asakusa side of Sumida Park, pretty close to the station (coincidentally, one block over from the Coco Curry...if you use Coco Curry as a landmark...)

The big pink things were slides set up to launch your emperor and empress down the river.  Hypothetically this meant that they didn't flip over at the bottom like a kayak, but it didn't always end up that way.  When I first read about Edo Nagashibina, I wasn't sure what to expect as far as the dolls went.  There are doll memorials where actual 3D dolls are sent out to sea on their final voyage, but these were just paper dolls, which makes sense because you wouldn't want to add MORE pollution to the river.

I mean, besides a thousand paper dolls, anyways.  They didn't make it very far before the paper became waterlogged and they started to sink, but I've seen paper like this before in Japan, and it dissolves as it sinks.  Probably still not the most ecologically sound practice, but if it saves girls from misfortunes then who am I to judge?

Alright.  This is where I'm gonna take a break from my regularly scheduled blogging and rant a bit.  America.  Seriously, what the fuck?  Here I am in Japan, which is pretty much the safest place ever, and over here we're protecting our children with beautiful traditions.  In the end, yes, it's probably pointless, but nobody ever died because you sent a paper doll down the river.  Meanwhile back home the only solution you can think of is MOAR GUNZ!!!  I've had so many conversations in the last two and a half weeks, trying to be rational and calm with people whose kneejerk reaction is "THESE ARE MY RIGHTS AND YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM."  There is no empathy.  There is no ability to imagine that someday some asshole with a gun might hurt someone they love.  There is no realization that if that happens, it will not be where they and their guns can do a damn bit of good.  It will be at their school, out shopping, or in a movie theater.  But they will at least have their rights, so bully for them.

The fact that we have to rely on businesses - whether it's Dick's stepping up and saying, "We'll be responsible about what we sell," or companies withdrawing discounts to NRA members - is just sad and pathetic.  I applaud the hell out of them, but we actually already have people whose job it is to make our country a saver place - our lawmakers.  Shame on them.  We have students - kids who should be enjoying a so-called carefree adolescence (as if that time has ever been carefree in any age) - stepping up to show us the way.  Shame on us.  And so even though every time I go on facebook these days I feel exhausted and sick, I'm determined not to remain silent.  I've done that long enough, worried about offending family and friends, but the truth is the idea of a child I care about losing their life makes me sick, and I don't want anyone else to go through that.  So even if it means being patient and rational and trying to talk sense with people who don't want to hear sense, when all I want to do is scream, Imma ganbatte.  Imma register for my absentee ballots, and start writing letters and making a public nuisance of myself, because this shit is bananas.  And I don't mean that in a good way.

Right.  Rant over.  There was also a boat out on the river decked out in pink, that had girls launching their dolls onto the river.  I read somewhere that there is a lottery of some kind to be involved in Nagashibina, but without being able to read Japanese I wasn't sure how or where you apply, and since I don't have any daughters to take place in the ceremony, I didn't care enough to ask Google for help figuring it out.

This past Saturday was the actual Hina Matsuri celebration.  I considered a couple of ways of celebrating on my own - as a geek, for starters, although I ended up running out of time to make my display.  I also thought about going to the Mitsui Museum, or the Hyakudan Kaidan, both of which had displays of Hina dolls.  However, in the ass-backwards tradition that is inherently me, I decided to celebrate with an entirely different kind of doll.

See, Jindai-ji was holding its annual Daruma doll market.  It's the second oldest temple in Tokyo, originally built in 733, which kind of makes it worth a visit in its own right.  Or it would, if Chofu wasn't kind of out of the way; I had to take the train to Chofu station (two transfers), then a bus, and finally walk down the hill and around a corner.  It's probably still worth a visit, but I like to whine, and if it weren't for the fact that I used Darumas as part of my doll unit I might not have felt so inclined to make the trek...but I have my reputation as the creepy doll person to uphold, so I do what I must.

There was the usual festival atmosphere, with the avenue leading up to the temple crowded with food and game stalls.  Finally I fought my way through the crowd to the temple proper, which was overrun by small, round, red things - Daruma dolls.

Daruma is a type of wishing doll.  When you buy him, he has no iris or pupil - just a blank white eye.  When you make your wish, you're supposed to darken in a circle on his left eye (your right).  Then you hold the sight in his other eye for ransom until he's made your wish come true.  When that happens, you fill in the other eye and bring him back to the temple.

At Jindai-ji there were monks who would do this for you, with some nifty, super official calligraphy.  I didn't want to be rushed into making a wish when I wasn't sure what I wanted most, so rather than waste a wish I chose to go the DIY route with my eye-darkening.

In retrospect, I should have wished that our government would win their balls back from the NRA in a game of cards, or else grow a new pair.  Another good option would have been to have my countrymen wake up to the "evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days."  Oh well, live and learn.

There were several different colors of Daruma, and a couple of the merchants had a color chart, but none of the ones I saw were in English.  Since I wasn't able to pinpoint the meanings of the colors, I decided to go based on the colors I liked.  The big gold ones were really striking, and I was tempted for a while to get a black one, but in the end, I decided to get a gold one with red decorations, since red is by far the most traditional color.  It was just a small one though, because I was only four days into this month's paycheck and already wondering how I was going to afford all the things I wanted to do.  There were also a few different styles, like a maneki neko or a shiba inu - most of which seemed to have their eyes already.  These made me curious about how they were made, but I feel like holding his eyesight ransom is bad enough...dissecting him to see what he looks like inside just seems over the top.

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.