Miscellaneous Photos: Otaru, Hokkaido

Otaru, Hokkaido, is the most architecturally interesting city I have visited in Japan, not excluding Kyoto. Otaru's Historic District is extensive and contains dozens of buildings, preserved by local ordinance, dating from 1900-1930. Though some are abandoned and in disrepair, many are home to thriving commercial establishments. Sapporo stone is usually used for the exterior of these structures, while wood is employed for the frame.

Akuseki Island: A Sad Story from 1944

Photo 1: the Tsushimamaru

Photo 2: some of the passengers aboard the ill-fated Tsushimamaru

Photo 3: a young girl praying at a memorial for the victims

Photo 4: the Tsushimamaru, located in 1997

Photo 5: the Bowfin at a memorial park of the same name in Honolulu

It was 1944. The tide had turned for the Japanese, and it was increasingly clear that the question was not whether U.S. ground forces would land on Japanese soil, but rather when. Saipan had fallen to the Allies, and an invasion of Okinawa seemed inevitable. During the spring and early summer of that year civilians and military personnel alike worked feverishly to prepare the island's defenses. Their studies suspended, schoolchildren were assigned to work details constructing bunkers and barracks. The Japanese authorities were considering evacuating as many as 1,000,000 women and children from the island: 80% were to be relocated to the mainland, with the remaining 20% to be sent to Taiwan. For a number of reasons the plans never materialized, among them being the belief that Japan could repulse the invaders. However, in July of 1944, rumors began circulating that an evacuation of the schoolchildren would finally take place. The military presence on Okinawa was being increased, and the authorities did not want precious resources to be used to support a civilian population that, in the event of invasion, would be unable to provide armed assistance. Thus it was that on August 21, 1944, the Tsushimamaru, a 6,500 ton cargo ship commissioned for the evacuation, steamed out of the harbor of Naha, Okinawa. On board were 1, 788 passengers and crew. Their destination: Nagasaki. The 5 ship convoy of which the Tsushimamaru was part comprised military vessels as well, and the following day the group was spotted by the U.S. submarine Bowfin. Apparently the sub did not recognize the Tsushimamaru for what it was, though contemporary photos clearly show a ship without armaments of any kind. The passenger ship adopted evasive measures to elude the Bowfin, but to no avail. Between 10:00 and 10:30 pm, August, 1944, the Tsushimamaru was struck by a torpedo fired from the Bowfin. Of the 1,788 passengers on board, 1418, including 767 children, perished in waters some 10k from Akuseki Island, Kagoshima. Only 59 children survived the attack.

Good Eclipse Viewing from Bad Rock Island

Akuseki (Bad Rock) Island has seen its population of 77 more than triple in recent days as astronomy buffs from around the world seek the best location to view the July 22 solar eclipse, which from the vantage of the island will be total. If the weather cooperates, the eclipse will be visible from the island for 6 minutes and 25 seconds (nowhere longer), making Akuseki an ideal eclipse-watching spot . One has to be serious about eclipses, though, to make the journey to the island. It is an 11 hour ferry journey from the port of Kagoshima, on the island of Kyushu, and service is only twice weekly. There is accomodation for 66 guests at the island's 5 inns, meaning most visitors will have to stay in tents pitched for the celestial event, which falls during Japan's monsoon season. But a total solar eclipse will not be visible from Japan again this century, and indeed it has been 46 years since the previous. Japan's public broadcaster, NHK, sent a camera crew to film the welcome ceremonies for the first arrivals. There was a performance by all 9 students at the island's sole school (K-grade 9) beautifully singing the village song and introducing the visitors to the island and its customs.

Japanese Health Care

One of the things Japan (and 35 other nations, for that matter) does better than the U.S. is health care. I came down with pneumonia several years ago and had to visit the clinic of the family doctor, a kindly general practitioner, twice a day for ten days, an hour and a half each time, for an IV drip. On Sunday, the clinic's day of rest, the doctor himself opened the office and administered the IV. When fully recovered I was presented with a bill for the office visits. Including the prescription medicine I had received during treatment, the total came to less than the equivalent of $200. I pay roughly $100 dollars a month to insure myself, my wife, and my three children. Whenever one of my loved ones feels ill, s/he visits the doctor, and the bill never exceeds $15, prescription medicine included. My children were born in Japanese hospitals, and my wife, like most Japanese mothers, spent a week in the maternity ward- some women stay for as long as two weeks. Our out-of-pocket expense? Nothing. That's right, $0. We were reimbursed by the city for the entire cost. Socialized medicine allows Japanese corporations such as Toyota to be more profitable than their American competitors. Indeed, former Chrysler chairman Lee Iacocca once quipped that GM spent more on employee health care (because the U.S. has no national health scheme) than it did on steel. As an American expat, I hope that my country can learn something from Japan, my adopted home.

A Tale of Two Countries

Earlier this year the major Japanese investment house Nomura Securities announced disastrous quarterly results. As a result, the company said, none of its employees would receive a bonus, and further, those responsible for the massive losses would face significant salary cuts. Contrast the sense of corporate and personal responsibility shown by the Japanese with the shameless, criminal behavior of their American counterparts. Months ago Wall Street's so-called "Masters of the Universe" were awarding themselves and their cronies tens of millions in "performance" bonuses and spending lavishly on office redecoration even as their firms were hurtling towards insolvency and collectively receiving trillions of dollars in taxpayer money (in what should be called The Great American Swindle). At a time when U.S. unemployment is officially near the 10% mark and real joblessness is considerably higher, when lines at food kitchens and other charities have grown dramatically, when poor residents of cash-strapped states are seeing their medical and other benefits slashed, when children are going hungry, one of the biggest recipients of taxpayer money, AIG, a firm at the heart of the global financial meltdown, has the chutzpah to announce it is planning a round of bonus payments for its employees. What? Japan has much to teach those besotted with rugged individualism and drunk on social Darwinism about group responsibility, of the true meaning of society and community. Ironic, isn't it, that Japan, a nation of Buddhists and Shintoists, should have created a society much closer to that envisioned by Christ than the U.S., with its millions of Christians.

Zen Master Ryokan- The "Great Fool"

Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831) is one of Japan's best-loved mendicant Zen monks and poet-calligraphers. The topmost photo shows a memorial erected at his birthplace in Izumozaki, Niigata.

Most of his life was spent far from the madding crowd in Echigo Province, as Niigata Prefecture was known in his day, an area of fertile rice fields and rich fisheries some 350km from the capital, Edo, as Tokyo was then called.

According to Minakami Tsutomu, writing in 1984, "Wordly people call him different things: fool, wise man, idiot, man of the Way. He never flatters the rich and important, nor disdains the poor and humble. He isn't happy when he gets things or sad when he loses them. He just goes along, natural, relaxed, a man who has transcended the dust of the world." Maxims to live by, I think.

The daily Niigata Nippo newspaper publishes on its front page a poem by Ryokan every day. There are "In the Footsteps of Ryokan" tours offered by towns and villages through which he was wont to pass, begging for alms. The hut in which he spent the latter part of his life is preserved and annually receives thousands of visitors from all over Japan.

That the Japanese lavish so much attention on poets and writers is one of the things I love about the country.

A 1,200-year-old Spa Village

On a recent Saturday Don Speden (of 3speedtouringinjapan.blogspot.com) and I went to the spa village Deyu, whose name means literally "hot water coming out". We first paid a visit to Seikokan, a spa hotel that was established over 300 years ago (pictured at bottom) and met the gracious English speaking daughter and extended family of the current owner. Don and I then bathed for about 2$ at the nearby public bath, shown in the topmost photo ( an unprepossessing facility, I'll be the first to admit) . There were 13 of us men packed into a 40 degree Celsius (cool for Japan) bath the size of a middling jacuzzi. Most of our companions were retirees, and they did not exhibit any discomfort regarding our presence. I am aware that discrimination exists in Japan-indeed, no country is free of it- but some expats, most notably naturalized Japanese Arudo Debito, go out of their way to meet it. In any case, the second photo shows a fiendishly grinning monk, identity and purpose unknown, outside the main temple in Deyu Village.

"I Hate 'Big Brother'": The Daily Kanji

Police in Toyohashi City, Aichi Prefecture, say they have arrested a minor suspected of damaging police direct-dial emergency telephones and vending machines installed with anti-theft sensors. The 19-year-old has reportedly freely admitted to the crimes, which occurred near railway stations and bicycle parking areas in the city. Vending machines, whose Japanese name, 自動販売機 (jidouhanbaiki), literally means self (自;ji) moving (動;dou) vending (販売; hanbai) machine (機; ki), are ubiquitious in Japan and sell everything from beverages (soft drinks, canned coffee, energy drinks, as well as alcohol) to rice and cigarettes, and (or so I'm told), in major metropolitan areas, the foregoing as well as women's undergarments (New?, Pre-owned?) and stag beetles. The machines have become increasingly sophisticated, with new models equipped with cameras and sensors to prevent the purchase of booze and smokes by minors, as well as other crimes. According to police, the young man, a truck driver, says he objected to the devices, emblems of an Orwellian surveillance society. As for the kanji 動, which denotes movement, it is used in the compounds 動物　(doubutsu; moving thing, or animal) and 自動車　(jidousha; self-moving vehicle, or automobile). Finally, when the radical for person is placed first, the resulting character means "to work or labor": 働く (hataraku).

A Shrine to Inari, the Shinto Rice God

Inari is the Shinto rice god, and the fox is the god's familiar. Inari is one of the most popular gods in the Shinto pantheon, and Inari shrines number in the tens of thousands. Inari is believed capable of granting success in matters as diverse as business pursuits and school exams. The Irifune Inari Shrine, pictured above, is located in central Niigata City. Its annual summer festival will be held July 8-10 this year. If you're in the area, the shrine is worth a visit.

The Daily Kanji: 古

The character 古 means "old". Its most common Japanese reading, or kun-yomi, is ふるい ( furui) ; in kanji, with the grammatical ending, it is rendered 古い. The sentence 私の車は古い (My car is old) employs this reading. In compounds with other kanji the character usually adopts the Chinese reading, or on-yomi. The latter is "ko", or こ　in hiragana, and consequently the reading for the compounds of which it appears is most often "ko". Some common compounds pronounced "ko"are:

湖- lake
固- hard, firm
個- individual
故- old, reason

Knowing that the pronunciation of such compounds is "ko" will help you to search for their meaning in Japanese or romanized dictionaries.

When the character retains its Japanese reading in compounds, the "i" is dropped, as in 古里, "furusato" (hometown, historic village); 古紙　"furugami" (old paper); and one of my favorites, 古臭い "furukusa(i)", literally "old and smelly" but meaning "old-fashioned; hackneyed, trite".

Torii

The torii is the gate through which one passes to enter a Shinto shrine. The Chinese characters for torii are 鳥 (tori), which means "bird", and 居 (i), which means "to dwell"; together the characters form the compound 鳥居 (torii). It is thought that the gateway was originally a perch for sacred fowl that announced the coming of day, rousing the Shinto faithful from their slumbers to salute the sunrise. This outdated custom recalls the Japanese belief that the "race" is descended from the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu. A communication sent by a 7th century Japanese potentate to his Chinese counterpart was signed "From the Emperor of the Land of the Rising Sun to the Emperor of the Land of the Setting Sun". The photos were taken at Yahiko Shrine, the largest in Niigata Prefecture. In August of 1689 Basho spent a night in Yahiko during his Oku-no-Hosomichi walking tour of northern Japan.

The Six Jizo

The six statues above depict the Buddhist deity Jizo, the patron saint of travelers and the protector of the souls of children in the underworld. The Jizo at far left holds a Buddhist rosary; the next has its hands joined in prayer; the third and sixth Jizo appear to carry the Japanese pilgrim's staff, or tsue; the fourth has (apparently) in its left hand the mystic jewel, the Nio-i ho-jiu, with the power to grant all desires; and the fifth holds in its left hand the mystic jewel and supports in its right the mendicant priest's staff, the shakujo, with its six rings at the top. Cups of water are placed before the group, and a single cup sits in front of the multitude of miniature statues (representing the souls of children) in the open-sided granite "box", which is likely a representation of the netherworld.

Shachihoko

The shachihoko is a great stone fish, an idealized porpoise, with its nose in the ground and its tail in the air. - Lafcadio Hearn

Shachihoko are often seen atop the tiled ridgepoles of wealthy planters' farmhouses, those of shrines and temples, as well as on the roofs of feudal castles. These stylized half-fish, half-tiger creatures are believed to protect buildings from fire. The use of shachihoko in their dual functions of ornamentation and fire prevention increased during the sixteenth century reign of Daimyo Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582). At present the largest copper plated shachihoko in Japan is that atop Matsue Castle in Shimane Prefecture, shown in the photo immediately above.

The Gohei

Gohei are the sacred cuttings of folded white paper attached to the shimenawa. Note that the gohei alternate with the pendent tufts of straw. As with the shimenawa, I refer to the erudite Lafcadio Hearn for more on the subject: "The origin of the paper cuttings (gohei) ... is likewise to be found in the legend of the Sun-goddess; but the gohei also represent offerings of cloth anciently made to the gods according to a custom long obsolete."

The Shimenawa

The shimenawa is the twisted rope hung from the main gate, suspended above the holy font or the entrance to the main hall, or wrapped around sacred trees or other objects at Shinto shrines. It may be a thick, hempen plait, as in the lower photo, or a few strands of twine, as in the upper. Of the shimenawa Lafcadio Hearn has this to say:"(I)t represents the straw rope the deity Futo-tama-no-mikoto stretched behind the Sun-goddess Ama-terasu... after Ame-no.., the Heavenly-handstrength-god, had pulled her out" [of the ground]. Depending from the shimenawa are tufts of rope signifying the roots that clung to the mythical original, which was made of grass.

Roadside Shrines

Roadside shrines like the one pictured are common sights in rural Japan. The stylized sculpture provides little clue to the deity's identity, but, like many such, it is probably associated with agriculture or wayfaring. Fresh flowers were recently placed in vases to left and right of the image.

A Spring Cycling Trip

Japan's addiction to road-building has at least one benefit: no area, howsoever remote, is inaccessible to the cyclist. The above photos were taken in Niigata in late April on a 125 kilometer ramble through the mountains, which are 800-1200 meters high in this area. I had the road to myself, my own private road, for much of the day.

Jikoji and Its Cryptomerias

Jikoji was my destination on a recent 90k cycling trip. Jikoji is a 600-year-old temple of a Zen-Buddhist sect. The path to the temple, which is located in a valley at the foot of Mt. Haku in Niigata, is lined for 500 meters by towering Japanese cedars, or cryptomerias. The age of the trees is estimated to be 300-500 years.

The Old Man and the Crab: a Japanese Folktale

There was once an old couple who lived in a certian village in Echigo Province. One day the old man went to a nearby river, and while he was there he caught a crab. The man took the crab home and placed it under the low verandah encircling the house, intending to make a pet of the creature. He quickly grew fond of the crab, and if there was anything tasty in the larder, he was sure to share it with his pet. Furthermore, whenever he went into the neighboring town on some errand or other, the old man always returned with a baked potato, for of this delicacy the crab was inordinately fond. For its part the crab soon reciprocated the old man's feelings. The old man would speak to the crab in a manner he would have used with his own grandchildren-if there had been any. "Hey, Master Crab. Gramps is here. Come on out and see what goodies he's brought you." The old man doted so much on his little crustacean friend that the old woman gradually came to resent the creature. "My husband is always giving that crab some tasty morsel to eat. When he's not around see if I don't teach the little so-and-so a thing or two," mused the woman. Her opportunity was not long in coming, for a few days later the old man left for town and was gone longer than usual. "Now's my chance. Worse luck for you, Master Crab." So saying, the woman bent down to a level with the verandah and called out "Hey, Master Crab. Gramps is here. Come on out and see what goodies he's brought you." And the crab, thinking it was the old man himself (so good was the woman's impersonation), came scuttling eagerly out. When the crab saw that it was not the kind old man but the menacing figure of his wife, it panicked and attempted to retreat under the house. But it was too slow for the old woman, who whacked the hapless creature with a stick of firewood she had concealed behind her back. The old woman had not intended to kill the creature; she merely wanted to frighten it into running away. Unfortunately, her blow struck the crab in its most vulnerable spot, and writhing in agony, it perished before her eyes. "Oh, what a terrible thing," moaned the woman helplessly. "Whatever shall I do?" Her hesitation was short-lived, for finding comfort in the thought that "What's done is done, and in any case the dead can't be brought back to life," the woman speedily boiled and ate the crab before the old man should return, disposing of the crab's shell by tossing it into a grove of bamboo behind the house. Soon thereafter the old man returned from town, whereupon he went straight to the garden, with the crab's favorite treat in hand, and peered under the verandah. "Hey, Master Crab. Gramps has come. Come on out and see what goodies he's brought," he called out as usual. But the crab, who ordinarily made a prompt appearance, failed to come out. "This is strange," thought the old man. "I wonder if the crab hasn't gone to play in the bamboo grove behind the house?" The old man looked high and low for the crab there, but no matter how many times he called out, the creature failed to appear. " Where could dear crabbie have gone?" he sighed. The man fell into a mournful reverie, and for quite some time he stood before the grove, unmindful of his surroundings. The man was recalled by the sudden appearance of a beautiful little bird, which flew out of the grove and alit on a branch of a tree beside him. The bird sang for a few moments in a dolorous way and then flew back into the bamboo thicket. "What an unusual bird. I wonder what such a pretty little thing is doing here," thought the man, all the while admiring the creature. For its part the bird flew in and out of the bamboo grove repeatedly, as if urging the old man to follow it, whereupon the man decided to enter the grove after the bird. The man saw that someone else had  been there before him, for in one place the soil had recently been turned over. The bird stood beside this patch of ground, scratching it with its foot. Brushing away some of the soil, the man was horrified to discover the shell and leg of a crab, his own crab! "Who could've done such a terrible thing? Could it have been my wife?" he shouted. Seething with rage he stalked into the house to find his wife. "How dare you do such a horrible thing!" he shouted. So angry was the man that he fell in a faint at his wife's feet. The woman began to repent of what she had done. "Please forgive me," she implored. "I didn't mean to kill the crab, merely frighten it. I used too much force when I struck the crab. It was very bad of me. Please forgive me!" The old man was moved by her contrition, and he promptly forgave her. Thereupon the man and his wife constructed a crude monument to the departed crab. From time to time the bamboo grove was visited by a little bird whose beautiful voice rang in the stillness of the copse.
Translation: Brian Southwick, 2009

The Animals Who Thwarted a Thief: an Old Tale

There was once a wealthy man in Echigo Province, as Niigata Prefecture was called in olden times. Although rich, the man was nevertheless kindly. He kept a number of animals as pets, and these he treated as though they had been his own children.
The man had never known an insidious thought in all his days, so he was unable to recognize treachery when it sidled up alongside him, as one day it did. The upshot: the man was forced to sell everything he had, his house, possessions, and his land.
“There’s nothing to do but sell our things and accept our fate,” announced the man to his family.
The man’s cat happening to be by just then, it overheard everything that passed, and it rushed outside to the stable where the horse was kept.
“Mr. Horse, Mr. Horse, I’ve terrible news!” said the cat.
When the horse had heard the story, it hung its head. “That’s truly awful. We must do something. Won’t you summon the dog and the hen?”
The cat rushed off to call the two animals, which were grieved by the news.
“I’ve lived here with master for too many years to count. In all that time the man has never beaten me. Instead, I’ve had none but the gentlest treatment,” said the dog. “As for me, the master still feeds me, even though I have stopped laying eggs,” added the hen.
Not to be outdone, the cat and the horse related stories of the many kindnesses performed by the man on their behalf.
"Well, that settles it. We must do something to show our gratitude. Can anyone think of a good way to repay these favors?"said the dog and the horse.
The animals deliberated, and they realized that the thieves who threatened the kind man lived in a cottage on a nearby ridge.
"What if we were to threaten them and get money from them?" suggested one of the animals.
"That's a swell idea. Let's be off," chimed in the others.
And so the four animals started off for the thieves' dwelling. When they arrived, the animals stealthily peered into the house, wherein they beheld the band of theives drinking sake before a mound of gold pieces. The horse called the others together, and they discussed a plan of attack.
"Sounds good! Let's get started!" they said a few moments later.
The horse stood before one of the sliding paper doors, and the dog stood upon its back. Atop the dog stood the cat, and topmost of all stood the hen.
"Here goes: 'Neigh, neigh!' 'Bow wow!' 'Meow, meow!' 'Cock-a-doodle-doo!' " cried the four together, each attempting to make his own voice as menacing as possible.
The occupants of the house were terribly surprised, and looking in the direction whence the noise seemed to issue, they beheld a bizarre outline against the sliding door.
"It's a monster! We're being attacked! Run away!" And the thieves ran out of the house in one body, leaving everything inside where it was.
The animals entered and filled bags with the gold pieces, being careful not to leave a single one behind. Then they returned home in high spirits.
"Here, master. Use this money. Accept this as repayment for the kindness you have shown us."
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart," replied the man.
As a result, the man didn't have to sell his property after all.
For their part, the animals returned to their former daily routine.
Translation 2009, Brian Southwick

The "Brushless" Letter

There was once a terrible famine in a certain district of Japan. For a long time the peasants there had had little to eat- they were truly miserable. One day they gathered to discuss what course to take.
“We should write to the local lord and tell him of our troubles. Let’s ask him to exempt us from paying our taxes this year,” one of the peasants suggested. This plan was eagerly subscribed to by the others (for it was the custom in Japan for peasants to pay their taxes in the form of agricultural produce, particularly rice). But an obstacle to the idea immediately presented itself: none of the peasants could write. “Oh, this is awful”, they sighed in one breath.
Just then one of their number spoke. “Don’t worry. I have an idea. Leave everything to me.”
Not long afterwards the local lord received a letter of supplication. Opening it, he read the following: “一二三四五六七八九十”三, which are the cardinal numbers in Japanese, one through ten.
“I wonder what this means?” he said to himself. “I can’t seem to make head or tale of it.” The lord called one of his attendants and ordered that the bearer of the letter be brought before him. When the man had been ushered into the apartment, the lord questioned him.
“Is this really a letter of request?”
“Yes,” replied the man.
“If that is the case, as there is no misunderstanding, be so good as to read the letter yourself,” commanded the lord.
And the man proceeded to relate the villagers’ distress, enumerating each point with a cardinal number (the pronunciation of which sometimes also served as the first syllable of the first word in its corresponding article; the effect produced was clever, a bit like punning).
“At last I understand,” said the lord when the man had finished his tale. But tell me, why didn’t you just write a proper letter?”
“No one in the village is literate, so I came up with this mnemonic method of communicating our wishes.”
“I see. What does the “三” (san) at the end mean?” asked the lord.
“Yes, that’s the name of the village elder, Yokokawa Sanzo.”
Copyright 2009, Brian Southwick

The Little Priest with the Majic Nose

Long ago in Echigo there lived an old man. Every day he would go into the mountains to collect firewood, which he would then take to town to sell. In this way he just managed to eke out a living. On a certain day he took his firewood to town as usual, but he was unable to sell even a single cord. Exhausted from walking from one end of town to the other with his heavy load of wood, he paused to rest on a bridge. Gazing into the river below, the man made up his mind to make an offer of the unsold wood to the river god, rather than carry it all the way home. "I'm sorry to make you such a pitiful present, god of the river, but please condescend to accept my firewood." So saying, the man tossed bundle after bundle of wood into the waters below. When he had finished and was preparing to return home, out of the river rose a beautiful young maiden bearing a precious little child in her arms. "I am the river god's helper," she said to the surprised old man. "The god wishes to thank you for your offering of firewood, which greatly pleases him. In return, the god wishes that you should accept this small token of his gratitude." And with that she presented the little child. The old man, rubbing his hands excitedly, took the child from the maiden. "This is no ordinary child," explained the girl. "We call him 'little priest with the nose of majic'. Should you desire anything in the world, just state your wish, and the child shall grant it. There is one thing you yourself must never fail to do, however: every day you must feed the child a shrimp. Is that understood?" The old man could barely contain his delight at this good fortune. "Of course, of course. Every day, without fail. I shall take excellent care of this lovely child, be assured I shall." When he had said this the young girl vanished, and the man betook himself homewards, the priceless child safely cradled in his arms. When he returned home the old man placed the child on a shelf supporting religious objects, and he proceeded to take great care of the little priest, remembering the girl's injunction. At first the man was afraid to test the veracity of the girl's story, fearful of dissappointment, but one day screwing up his courage, the man asked the child for a sack of rice. "Little priest, please be so kind as to grant me some rice." Standing back to observe what followed, the man saw the priest blow his nose, which made a peculiar tinkling sound, and in an instant a sack of rice appeared. The old man was stunned. He also discovered no end to his wants. "I want piles of money. A house. A storeroom for my valuables." And on and on. It is no wonder, then, that before long the old man was the wealthiest individual in the district. Gone were the days when he would tramp into the mountains to collect firewood, when throughout the town would ring his cry "Firewood for sale, firewood for sale." And it seemed to the man, accustomed as he now was to this new life of indolent ease, that walking into town every day to buy a shrimp for the little priest had become an onerous chore, something closely resembling work. Accordingly, the man one day announced to the child a drastic change in their relations. "Little priest, I find that nothing remains to wish for. I no longer have any need of you, so I intend to return you to the river god." No sooner had he uttered these words than a strange sniffing sound issued from the nose of the little priest, and in an instant the house, the storeroom, and every other wonderful possession utterly vanished. "Wait! Wait! Don't leave me, little priest! I didn't mean what I said!" cried the man, driven to distraction. But the little priest too had disappeared without a trace. Looking about him the old man beheld the hovel he had formerly inhabited and all of its mean furnishings. The next day the streets of the town rang anew with the cry of "Firewood for sale, firewood for sale."
Translation 2009, Brian Southwick

Little Snow Child- an Old Story from Niigata

Long ago in Niigata there was a poor farming family. It was a large family: the grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, and many children all lived together. Although the people had little money, they lived happily in a house at the bottom of a mountain.
One snowy evening in winter the family sat around a warm fire. There was a pot of wild pig soup over the fire, and a delicious smell filled the house. Everyone was quite hungry, and they couldn’t wait to start eating.
“Isn’t the soup ready yet?” asked some of the children.
“We can’t wait any longer!” shouted the other children.
Just then there was a noise at the back door. The door opened, and some snow was blown into the house. Everyone turned around and was surprised to see a strange boy standing in the room. He was not like other boys because he had seven faces!
“Where are you from? Why are you here?” The people asked the boy these and many other questions, but he didn’t answer any of them.
The boy with seven faces looked very cold. He walked up to the fire and said, “May I sit by the fire with you?”
“Yes, please sit down. In a few minutes our dinner will be ready. Please have some wild pig soup with us,” said the grandfather.
“Do you have a house of your own? Where are you going to go after dinner?” asked the children, who were very curious. But the strange boy sat by the fire and said nothing.
“Well everyone, I think the soup is ready,” said the mother a few minutes later. She gave the strange boy a bowl and took the top off of the soup pot.
Suddenly the boy stood up. “Thank you, but I’m full,” he said. Then he left the house.
“What a strange boy. Why did he come here? He should have stayed to have dinner with us,” said everyone together.
The mother again lifted the top off of the soup pot. When she looked inside she was very surprised. “What? Where is the soup?” she shouted. Everyone went up to the pot and looked inside. Almost all of the soup was gone! “The boy ate the soup! He said that he was full,” they said. The children then ran out of the house to look for the strange boy, but they couldn’t find him anywhere.
When the children got back home their grandmother told them an interesting story. “Have you ever heard of the ‘snow child’?” she asked. “On winter nights the snow child sometimes visits people’s houses. Because they think he is a human, the people invite him to have dinner with them. But the child isn’t really human, and he eats all of their food. When I was a little girl I heard the story of the snow child for the first time. Touch the cushion the strange boy used,” she said.
The children went over by the fire and found the cushion used by the boy. They touched it, and they were surprised to find that it was quite wet.
Copyright 2009, Brian Southwick

A Niigata Folktale

Long ago two old men, one the pink of honesty, the other an arrant knave, inhabited a certain village in Echigo, as Niigata was then called. They happened to be next door neighbors, and one year, late in December, the two stood before their houses, passing the time of day. After exchanging greetings, the first said, "The second of January is just around the corner. That evening, as is the Japanese custom, let's both pray for good fortune." "Yes, that's an excellent idea. I certainly won't forget to do just that," rejoined the other. Bidding one another good day, the two went their separate ways. A few days afterward, on the morning of January 3 to be exact, the two men hailed each other across the common hedge separating their gardens.
"Happy New Year", said the greedy old man to his neighbor. "What sort of dream did you have? Was it a good one?" "Indeed it was. I dreamt of a great fortune that descended from the sky," the other replied. "And what about you?" he asked. "In my dream my fortune rose out of the ground. So we've both had good dreams." "Yes, it's going to be a very good year for the two of us." And the two parted in extremely good humor. A few days later, the weather proving exceedingly mild, the honest old man decided to plant some early beans. Taking up his hoe, he went outside into the vegetable garden behind his house. He began to form rows, and the morning was well advanced when his hoe struck a hard object just beow the surface. "There shouldn't be any stones in my vegetable patch. What could this be?" he wondered. The man began to dig the stone out, and what was his surprise to discover it was a large earthenware jar? Removing the lid and peering inside, the man found that it was filled with tightly packed gold bars, both large and small, gleaming with a blinding brightness.""Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "If this isn't the treasure my neighbor dreamed about, then I'm very much mistaken." And the honest old man immedately ran to his neighbor's to announce the wonderful news. The dishonest, greedy neighbor was quite breathless with glee, and being told where he would find his treasure, ran out of the house and into the next-door kitchen garden. Meanwhile, his worthy neighbor returned to his own home to tell his wife what had happened. It wasn't difficult to find the jar, for it was exactly where the honest old man had said it would be. Rubbing his hands with anticipation and singing "'Clank, clank' go the bars of gold", the miserly old man slowly lifted the lid fom the jar. As he did so, a mysterious swishing sound greeted his ears. Opening the lid further, he was surprised when something ropelike slid out. He then removed the lid completely, only to receive the shock of his life. For instead of gold bars, the jar contained a writhing mass of serpents, all tangled and coiled into one disgusting mass. "You dirty dog," he apostrophized his worthy neighbor. "Filled to the top with bars of gold, you say? You sure fooled me. But I warn you, two can play at this game!" And with that threat levelled at his unsuspecting neighbor, the man ran to his toolshed. Removing the longest ladder he owned, he returned next door with it, propping it against his neighbor's house. Up he climbed, straining under the weight of the snake-filled jar. Once on the roof the man crawled to the chimney, down which he peered. No sight could have provided a greater contrast with his own mood, for in the room below, sitting around a crackling fire warming themselves, were the man's neighbor and his wife, chatting merrily away. Looking on, the greedy man seethed with indignation. "Playing dirty tricks makes you feel good, does it? Take this, then, with my compliments!" And removing the lid from the jar, he dumped its contents into the room below. The man and his wife were suddenly interrupted by a cascade of gold bars dropping into the room through the chimney. "Look at that," exclaimed the man. "My dream has come true. Just as in my dream, our fortune has come to us from the sky. My, if strange things don't happen in twos." The old couple were extremely wealthy now, and needless to say, they lived happily ever after.

The Grateful Wolf: A Japanese Folktale

***Note the parallels between this story and the Aesop fable "Androcles and the Lion".
Once upon a time an old woman and her son lived in a village in the mountains. Although the two worked very hard every day, they were extremely poor. One night the old woman fell seriously ill. The nearest doctor lived in a village on the other side of the mountain, and the path to his village traversed an area frequented by wolves. As a result, no one from either village dared to venture forth along this path after dark. However, the old woman's case was severe, so her son decided to summon the doctor. The boy left the village and hurried along the mountain path, all the while praying to the gods to protect him from wolves. But just as he'd feared, before long a wolf appeared. It was a huge wolf that approached him, and the boy mustered his courage and glared defiantly at the wolf. "Look here, Mr. Wolf!" he challenged. "You'll have to forget about eating me for dinner today. My mother is ill, and I'm on my way to fetch the doctor. You just let me walk on by, I say." But the animal continued to approach, and toward the end of this speech the boy's courage began to fail. "Please, Mr. Wolf. If you allow me to fetch the doctor and conduct him to my ailing mother, I'll return and you may eat me if you like", said the boy, now pleading with the wolf. The wolf paid the boy no heed, however, but inched even nearer. He could now feel the wolf's hot breath on his face, so close was the creature. The tearful boy resigned himself to his apparent fate, closing his eyes and preparing for the first snap of the wolf's sharp teeth. But nothing happened. "I wonder if the wolf isn't going to let me go after all?" said the boy to himself. After several fearful moments the boy slowly opened his eyes. The wolf was no more than a foot away. The boy immediately closed his eyes again. But the wolf remained, standing quietly by the boy's side. "This is strange," said the boy, beginning to feel that there was some hope after all. "It seems the wolf would like to tell me something." The wolf then opened its mouth wide and began wagging its head. "Perhaps the wolf has the toothache and wants my help," mused the boy. Peering into the animal's mouth, the boy noticed the glitter of some foreign object. "Aha! There's a bone stuck in the wolf's throat," he exclaimed. No longer afraid, he reached deep into the wolf's mouth and removed the bone. The wolf appeared grateful, bowing its head several times before vanishing into the forest. The boy then hurried on his way to the doctor's. He arrived safely, but the doctor refused to accompany the boy home, fearing the wolves he felt sure to encounter along the way. So the boy obtained some medicine for his mother and set out on his return journey. He hadn't gone far before he encountered a pack of some fifty wolves. Baring their fangs, the wolves approached the boy. "It's all over for me this time," he thought to himself; "Mother, I'm sorry," he sobbed. Resigning himself to his fate, the boy was preparing for the coming attack, when all of a sudden a great wolf leaped into the ring of encircling wolves, growling and driving them back as he went. Then, in one body, the wolves fled into the forest, leaving the boy alone with his protector. The boy looked at the animal closely, and what if it wasn't the very wolf he had helped earlier that evening! With the wolf at his side the boy arrived home safely.When the boy walked outside the next morning, he was met with a great surprise. A mountain of wild game was piled up before the door of the house! The boy took the carcasses to the town to sell, and in this way he realized a large sum of money. In time the boy's mother completely recovered from her illness, and the two lived very happily for many years.
Copyright 2009, Brian Southwick

The Grateful Crane: A Tale from Sado Island

There was once an old couple who lived deep in the mountains of Sado Island. The two were very poor and just managed to eke out a living by growing their own vegetables, gathering wild food, and selling firewood in a nearby village. One cold, snowy day, the old man went to town to sell some firewood. On his way home he saw a crane. It was caught in a trap and couldn't fly. The old man was sad, and he wanted to help the bird. "Don't move," he said soothingly to the crane. "I'll help you." The old man took the crane out of the trap, and the bird flew away into the mountains. When he returned home, the old man told his wife about the crane. Just then, the old couple heard a knock at the door. "Who can that be?" the old woman wondered. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see a beautiful young woman standing outside. "Please forgive my knocking at your door at night. It is snowing very heavily, and on my way to visit a friend I lost my way. Could I please stay with you tonight?" the young woman asked. "It's especially cold outdoors, and if you don't mind spending the night in such a poor house as ours, where there aren't futons enough to go around, we should be honored to have you as our guest." So saying, the old woman beckoned the delighted young woman inside. The blizzard continued for days, and still the young woman remained with the old couple. The woman, to demonstrate her gratitude for the couple's kindness, did all the cooking, washing, and many chores besides. The old couple, who were childless, came to regard the young woman as their own daughter. For her part the woman loved the man and his wife so ardently that she asked them to adopt her as their own, which the elated old couple immediately agreed to do. One day the young woman announced that she desired to do some weaving. "Please go to the village and get some fabric for me. I'll weave some beautiful cloth for you," she said. The old man hurried out to buy some cloth for the woman. When he returned, the woman said to the couple, "Don't on any account peek into the room while I am at work. I implore you, don't open the door of the room." "We understand you- have no fear. Please weave some beautiful cloth," replied the old couple. The young woman entered the room and closed the door. For three days the sound of the loom was heard, nor in all that time did the woman pause in her work. Finally, on the evening of the third day, the "whoosh" and "clack" of the loom ceased, and the woman opened the door, bearing in her arms a roll of cloth.　"It's the most beautiful cloth we've ever seen," the old man and woman exclaimed in unison. "It's called 'crane's cloth',"explained the woman. "Why don't you take it to the village tomorrow to sell? Then you can buy me some more fabric." And so the old man left early the next morning. "Crane's cloth for sale. Crane's cloth for sale" heard the people of the village as the old man passed. The cloth sold quickly, and with the money he received the man bought more fabric and a few household items before returning home. After reminding the old coulpe not to watch her at work, the young woman shut the door of the workroom and began weaving another roll of cloth with the new fabric. Two days passed, then three. "I'd give anything to know how she weaves such beautiful cloth," admitted the old woman to her husband. "Surely it wouldn't hurt to take one little peek." "No, no, we mustn't," remonstrated her husband. "Remember the promise we made." But under his wife's repeated cajoling and coaxing, the man finally relented. Peering into the room, the old lady was dumbfounded by what she beheld. For instead of the beautiful young woman a crane was bending over the loom, using its long beak to weave its own feathers into the fabric. "Grandpa, grandpa, a crane is weaving the cloth!" she whispered excitedly. That evening the young woman emerged from the room carrying a roll of cloth. "Thank you for your many kindnesses," she said. "I'll never forget how you welcomed me into your home one snowy evening, a complete stranger who had lost her way. I am the crane you released from the trap. Because you looked into the room where I was weaving, I must now leave you. Thank you again for everything." With that the woman spread her arms, assumed the form of a crane, and rose into the sky. After circling the house, the crane flew off toward the mountains. The saddened old couple followed the bird's flight and remained gazing wistfully mountainwards, long after the creature had disappeared from view.
Translation 2009, Brian Southwick

The Wealthy Charcoal Burner: An Old Japanese Tale

There was once a wealthy individual named Chosha who lived in a certain village. He was a notorious miser who had never been known to perform a charitable act. Nevertheless, he was always the first in line to receive handouts. Every night Chosha would repair to the godown where his valuables were stored, and there he would open a stout box wherein his gold coins were kept. These he would count, first the large, then the small. Nothing in the world gave him so much pleasure as the feel of the gold coins in his hand and their dull gleam in the light of a guttering candle. One day Chosha went to the godown as usual, and he received a terrible shock. For no matter how many times he recounted his hoard, there was no escaping the awful truth: some of the gold pieces were missing! "How can this be?" he wondered aloud. "I have never spent a single one." Any yet the inescapable fact remained: there were fewer gold pieces, and his moneybags were perceptibly lighter. The next night Chosha discovered that even more of his gold had disappeared. "Could it have been a thief?" he asked, looking fearfully into the shadowy corners of the storeroom. He waited and waited , but no burglar appeared to explain the mystery. He felt his eyes becoming heavy with sleep and was composing himself to spend the rest of the night in the godown when he sat bolt upright. A strange clinking sound reached his ears, issuing from somewhere in the darkness. "What's that sound? There's no one here but me!" Chosha almost shouted in fright. Peering into the midnight darkness of the storeroom, Chosha beheld a mysterious sight. Out of the box in which he kept his money issued a golden stream. As if that weren't enough, as the gold coins rose to float about the room above Chosha's head, they began conversing in the following manner: "We won't remain in this house any longer. Our owner, Chosha, doesn't know the meaning of charity. We weren't made simply to be hoarded. Let's escape from this place at once." So saying, the gold pieces moved like a swarm of bees toward the door. "Hey, wait!You belong to me. Don't you go anywhere!" yelled Chosha. Unavailingly, however, for without further ado the gold coins flew out of the godown in one body, jingling into the night. Chosha dashed out of the storeroom in pursuit of his money but, in an instant, the gold pieces disappeared from sight. Continuing their flight until they were deep in the mountains, Chosha's gold coins paused to consider their final destination. "Now that we have left Chosha, where shall we go?" asked some of them, whereupon one of the small coins suggested the following. "There lives in these parts a charcoal burner, one Tota. This Tota is a hard worker, but he is quite poor. Even so, Tota is the first to help others in distress." Another of the coins piped up, "That reminds me of a story I recently heard concerning a poor charcoal burner. It seems the man anonymously gave all the money he had saved to a poor bedridden neighbor. It must have been Tota." Another added, "That settles it! We're off to Tota's house." All of this took place unbeknownst to Tota, of course, who at that time was sleeping the sleep of the just. Imagine his surprise, therefore, when he awoke the next morning to find a considerable treasure in gold coins piled up before his door. Quickly gathering the coins together, Tota set off for the village, where he shared his unlooked for fortune with the needy. With what he retained for himself he built a house. Soon thereafter he married. His charcoal business thrived, and in due course Tota became headman of the village and its wealthiest denizen.
Copyright 2009, Brian Southwick

Hiyoriyama

The Sumiyoshi Shrine sits atop Hiyoriyama in downtown Niigata City. Hiyoriyama is the highest natural point in the area and, until Japanese adopted western building styles, gave an unobstructed view of the mouth of the nearby Shinano River as well as its roadstead. Hiyoriyama was formerly the site of a military lookout, and the earliest surviving depiction of the knoll shows two guards, one of them surveying the view seawards through a telescope. Drawn in 1831, the picture also shows the pine tree that appears in the second photo. That the pine is the same I have on the unimpeachable authority of the caretaker of Sumiyoshi Shrine, an expert on local history whose fascinating site, replete with photos, maps, original woodcuts, and other items, may be viewed at http://www.najiranet.com/.

Izumozaki: Basho and Ryokan

O'er wild ocean spray,
All the way to Sado Isle
Spreads the Milky Way

Thus reads Dorothy Britton's translation of the haiku Basho wrote from Izumozaki.

During much of August,1689, Basho and traveling companion Sora followed the Sea of Japan coast through Echigo Province, as Niigata was then known, at that point two-thirds of the way through the walking tour that would become known as the Narrow Road to the Interior. Niigata was hot and inhospitable, and as they hurried along the two had little time for poetry. Niigata City, Yahiko, Izumozaki- 70k in 3 days. According to Sora's journal, the two spent the night in Izumozaki at the Ozaki Inn, located across the street from the present-day Basho Memorial Park (see two photos at top). The inn is long since gone, but a white marker on the current occupant of the site indicates the Ozaki's former location and offers information about Basho's visit.

Celebrated calligraphist, poet, and Zen priest Ryokan-sama was born in Izumozaki and spent much of his life in the area. The third and fourth photos commemorate the town's most famous native son.

Sasagawa Yukichi's Picture Postcards

By trade, Mr. Sasagawa Yukichi was a maker of mochi, the glutinous Japanese rice cake eaten at festivals. The Sasagawa shop still exists in downtown Niigata City, as shown in the accompanying photos. My mother-in-law will purchase mochi and related items, such as sasadango, the local mochi delicacy wrapped in bamboo leaves and made with yomogi, or mugwort (whence the mochi derives its green hue), from no other vendor. What few probably know, however, is that Mr. Sasagawa was an avid collector of picture postcards. Indeed, before he died in 1998 he donated more than 26,000 postcards, representing a lifetime of collecting, to the Niigata Prefectural Museum, located in Nagaoka. Some of them may be viewed at the following link: www.nbz.or.jp/jp/siryo/sasagawa.html. If you are ever in the Furumachi district of Niigata City, ask for the Sasagawa Mochi Shop. While there, observe the collection of curiosities in the shop window. And don't forget the sasadango.

The Watanabe House

The Watanabe House, located in Sekikawa Village, is a splendid example of an Edo period samurai dwelling, or yashiki. The Watanabe clan were retainers of the Murakami daimyos, whose powerful influence during the Tokugawa Shogunate was widespread throughout Niigata. The main tourist attraction in Sekikawa, the house and its outbuildings are in an excellent state of repair. A wing of the structure is inhabited by descendants of the former samurai warriors.

The Zensaku Roadside Tea Shop

At first glance, the Zensaku Tea Shop appears as unremarkable as it is precariously situated. Located on Niigata's Prefectural Route 7- and practically in the northbound lane-, Zensaku's drab exterior and array of nondescript sundries within (some of them surely past their sell-by date) hardly invite further interest. But no visitor to the vicinity of Kamo City should miss the opportunity to patronize this nationally famous establishment. The Zensaku Tea Shop was opened over 130 years ago. The current proprietor is 80 years old and the fourth since the shop was established. Zensaku, whose name translates as "made with goodness", faces the Kamo River a few kilometers outside of Kamo City, a quaint town known locally as the "Kyoto of Niigata".