Mamoru-kun, Mascot of Miyako

The mascot of Miyakojima (宮古島-in the Okinawa island chain) is Mamoru. 'To protect, defend', also a name for boys, hence the 'kun'- Mamoru, in the guise of a policeman, watches over the roads in 20 locations throughout the island. I attended a wedding on the island a year ago, and one evening some of us repaired to an izakaya where customers are treated to- I'll let the video do the rest.

Basho and Sora in Niigata: Narrow Road to the Interior

A couple of links to short videos regarding the haiku poets' passage through Niigata in early July, 1689. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kveHtuRNMc8 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCjueus1cLg

That's a lot of Takoyaki

Pottering Discoveries: Yoshida Inari Shrine, Niigata

Inari is the god of rice in the Shinto 'pantheon'-since the late Edo Era, Japanese have prayed to the god for commercial success as well as agricultural bounty. Given its history as Japan's most productive rice-growing region, it is unsurprising that Niigata should be home to the greatest number of shrines to Inari, of which that pictured offers a fine example of Inari gates. By the way, the fox: as a predator of mice, the bane of rice farmers, a natural choice to be Inari's messenger (not a representation of the god). As everyone knows, foxes are particularly fond of fried tofu, hence: Inari Zushi and Kitsune Udon/ Soba. 

https://youtube.com/shorts/uxObqqa4DVs?si=YaJySIZabxHS0gfo

  

A Showa-style Dagashi-ya Candy Store

 C-57 is the largest Showa-style dagashiya in Niigata, with over 300 varieties of 'low-grade' (the da [駄] of dagashi ) candies, sweets, and sundries. Located in Niitsu, nicknamed 'Railroad Town' because of its long history as a hub for Japan National Railways (until 1987) and its successor, East Japan Railway Company (familiarly, JR East), the shop takes its name from the old steam locomotive 'C-57', pictured prominently above the entrance.  Clink the link below to see a video of the shop's exterior.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptf5g8KaQk0

For videos of the interior:

https://youtube.com/shorts/6vxh5-9fY3k?

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/5k93LqLW-nM

https://youtube.com/shorts/-UAMhrE-ddQ?si=vcUZXP7X3irMtRX0

Zen Monk and Poet Ryokan-sama: a Reposting

 

Recently I've been reading John Stevens's Zen Poetry of Ryokan. Ryokan was born 251 years ago in Echigo Province, as Niigata was then known. A couple of years ago I visited his birthplace, Izumozaki, as well as the nearby hermitage Gogo-an, where he spent the latter part of his life. The late novelist Yasunari Kawabata as well as the renowned author of books on Zen Buddhism, Daisetz Suzuki, have said that one who wishes to understand the Japanese psyche can do no better than read Ryokan-sama. The following poem is one of my many favorites:

My hut lies in the middle of a dense forest;

Every year the green ivy grows longer.

No news of the affairs of men,

Only the occasional song of a woodcutter.

The sun shines and I mend my robe;

When the moon comes out I read Buddhist poems.

I've nothing to report, my friends.

If you want to find the meaning, stop chasing after

so many things.

THURSDAY, JULY 09, 2009

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.

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

P

Nakasendo: An Old Post Road

 The most heavily travelled and important of Japan's post roads was the Tokaido, which connected Edo (modern Tokyo), the capital of the Tokugawa shogunate, and Kyoto, the old imperial seat. The 53 stations along the way were made famous in a series of ukiyoe woodblock prints by Hiroshige. The nakasendo , as its name suggests (naka is inner, sen mountain), was an inland route (unlike the Tokaido, which followed Japan's Pacific coastline before heading away from the coast to Kyoto.) The way was longer, mountainous, and boasted 69 posts, starting at Nihonbashi and winding its way through present-day Saitama, Gunma, Nagano, Gifu, and Shiga before arriving in Kyoto. One section of the road remains much as it was during the Edo era (1603-1868) and is the subject of the following video link.

Greed and Ginger: A Folktale from Iwate

 Long ago in some forgotten corner of Iwate there was an inn, and the keeper of this hostel was a most covetous man indeed, so much so that anything left behind by guests became the man's personal property. One day a traveler arrived at, goggle-eyed, well-dressed, with a striped bundle on his back. 

"I'd like a room for the night," the man said.

"Welcome, please come in, you can have your pick of the rooms" said the innkeeper and, grinning ear to ear, showed the visitor to his room. 

"He certainly looks prosperous. I wonder what's in that bundle of his?  Aha, I have an idea. They say that myoga  induces forgetfulness, so I'll just serve him up a dish of Japanese ginger for dinner," thought the innkeeper.   

So he summoned the maidservant and explained that the guest had ordered ginger for dinner- and lots of it. 

The guest tucked in to a dish piled high with the herb, exclaiming, "My, this is delicious". Before long the plate was clean.

Our innkeeper gleefully pictured to himself the mysterious bundle of the guest and the riches it must hold, which would undoubtedly be his come morning the next day.

On preparing to depart the next morning, the guest thanked the serving girl for the delicious dinner and set out on his way.

No sooner had he left than the innkeeper rushed into the man's room, fully expecting to find the forgotten bundle lying in plain view on the tatami matting. To his great surprise, however, it was nowhere to be seen. He turned over all the floor cushions and bedding and emptied the closets, all to no avail. Despite having eaten a heaping plate of ginger for dinner, the departed guest had forgotten nothing.

Perplexed and disappointed, the innkeeper remained lost in thought until he had a revelation: the guest had indeed forgotten something- to pay his bill.

The man rushed out and pursued the guest in the direction he had left, stopping passersby to ask if they'd seen a goggle-eyed man with a large bundle wrapped in a striped cloth.  But the villagers knew the innkeeper well, and his inquiries were met with howls of laughter. 

Japanese ginger and furoshiki wrapping cloth

Japan's "Michaelangelo": Ishikawa Uncho at Juni Shrine, Kamo, Niigata

For more on Ishikawa, see here.

Chorus of Peepers

 Rice fields just outside, recently irrigated and planted, so the frogs have moved in. 

Downhill from Tsuchikura to Otani, Mt. Awa in Distance

 

Spring Green, and a Bush Warbler

 

Pottering Pics

 Jyuuni Shrine, at top, which houses two wooden  statues by the "Michaelangelo of Echigo", Ishikawa Uncho, unfortunately locked.

Rice field and temple in Tsuchikura

Row of trees supporting horizontal bars for drying sheaves of rice in Otani

Kamo River

All photos taken in Nanatani "Seven Valleys" area of Kamo City, Niigata

More Satoyama Sights in Kamo, Niigata

 

Valley in Nanatani, Kamo

 Wind, the occasional bird, frogs, fields awaiting planting

Fall Color

 

Some Photos of Inari Shrines

 

A short video about a small Inari shrine in Niigata City: https://youtu.be/FIQWj7dVceI?si=CzzCx_R2X4edLFJV

Homage to Basho: David Lehman in The Atlantic; and, some Basho

 The butterfly dips

its wings in aroma of

violet wild orchid.

Red plums of summer,
first green figs, so many ears
of corn eaten raw.

Leaves that left the trees
are litter now on the ground
in orange and yellow.

No one on this road
but me: It must be autumn
in the dark country.

Comes the freeze, and rain
falls all through the night and soaks
the morning paper.

Winter blows its white
storms across the hills: Even
monkeys need raincoats.

The spring night vanished
while we talked among cherry
blossoms and petals.

-David Lehman

Red dragonflies, or akatonbo, are associated with the harvest season. Here's Basho:

Crimson pepper pod

add two pairs of wings, and look

darting dragonfly

crimson pepper pod, called "hawk's claw"

The Mice Who Wrestled Sumo

 One upon a time there lived an elderly couple somewhere in rural Niigata. (Needless to say, the old man and his wife were poor.) One day the old man headed for the hills to cut grass. Arriving at the spot where he intended to work, the man was surprised to hear grunting and heaving coming from the base of a tree nearby. Looking closely, he saw two mice wearing loincloths, engaged in a spirited sumo contest. One of the mice was much larger than the other and had no trouble vanquishing his foe, bout after bout.  The smaller of the two he recognized as one that he had befriended in the past, the larger, the favorite of the wealthiest man in the district. "Poor little mouse", he thought, as yet another contest ended in defeat. When he returned home he told his wife about the wrestling mice. "Of course, we must take our mouse friend some rice cakes to get his strength up." The man thought this was a wonderful idea, so that evening he and his wife left mochi where the mouse would be sure to find them. The next morning the man set out for another day of grass cutting, and when he arrived he heard the self-same grunting and heaving, only this time it was his mouse that was triumphant. "Hey, you, how'd you get so strong all of a sudden?", said the larger mouse to his opponent.  "It's because of the mochi the old couple gave me." "I wonder if they'd give me a few rice cakes?" the other mused.  "Don't count on it. Rice cakes are a rare treat when you're poor." "That rich old guy. All that money, and not once has he given me so much as a single mochi. I wonder..." After discussing this overheard conversation with his wife that evening, the two decided to divide their store of rice, half for themselves, the other for the two mice. Later, they placed mochi for two and new red loincloths, one much smaller than the other, beside the sumo ring. Shortly afterwards the larger mouse appeared, staggering under the weight of the gold coins in his paws. He set them down and proceeded to nibble away at one of the rice cakes. The next day the old man returned to the hills. This time he noticed the two wrestlers were evenly matched and in high spirits. "We have the man and his wife to thank for this," they squeaked happily. The supply of gold coins continued, and the old couple lived happily and prospered. As did the two mice, who were never in want of rice cakes. Or loincloths, either.     

Translation: B. Southwick, 2020

A Japanese Folktale: The Statues with Hats

 Long ago a kindly old couple lived in the mountains, poor but happy. One year, the morning of New Year's Eve it was, the old man gathered together the sedge hats he and his wife had made and prepared to set out for the village nearby. "If I can sell all five hats, I should be able to buy us some rice cakes for tomorrow", he said (rice cakes being a traditional New Year's food in Japan). "Yes, please. And do be careful- I think it will snow later today." Sure enough, not long after the old man left for the village, snow began to fall, just as his wife had said. Harder and harder it fell, and faster and faster walked the man. On the outskirts of the village stood six statues of Jizo all in a line, the snow starting to pile up atop their heads and shoulders.  The old man stopped and considered for a moment. Then, he placed one of his hats on the head of the Jizo nearest him- after first wiping the snow off the statue's head, of course. And so on until five of the Jizo were wearing the hats the man had hoped to sell. Standing before the last statue, the old man took off his own hat. When her husband returned home, hatless and with a dome of snow on his head, the old woman exclaimed in surprise. "My, you are back early. What happened to your hat?" "Well, it's quite a story," and he told her about the Jizo. "You did the right thing. And what does it matter if we have no rice cakes for tomorrow?"  That night, while the two were asleep, strange happenings were afoot. First, an unearthly singing: "Where oh where does the old man live? We've come in thanks for the hats. Where oh where does the old man live? We've come in thanks for the hats." The singing stopped in front of the house. There was a sound as of something being laid before the door. And then a hurried shuffling away. The old couple, being light sleepers, had been awakened by the singing. Opening the door, they found rice cakes and many things besides to make a New Year's feast. Looking off into the distance, they beheld six figures with hats trudging through the snowy night.    

Translation: B. Southwick

The story (and some nice illustrations) can be found here: http://hukumusume.com/douwa/pc/jap/12/31.htm

          

For more on Jizo, a short video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jx1oE6F1ea0

The Sotoba, or Ihai

 The sotoba, or stupa, is a thin notched wooden lath on which the name of the deceased and a verse from Buddhist scripture are written.

Taiko Drum Workshop

 Marukei is one of just three taiko drum makers in Niigata Prefecture, which is home to the renowned taiko troupe Kodo, and therefore somewhat surprising to me. The current master- in his 60s, I'd guess- is seventh generation and does not appear to have a successor. He told me it can take up to 10 years to build one of the larger drums, with several years required to dry the handpicked keyaki - zelkova growing in Niigata do not grow straight enough, so he gets his wood from Tochigi. With summer festivals and other events at which taiko are played cancelled this year, the builder has seen business drop. Pictured is a repair job on a drum his grandfather built, lettering on the inside indicating the builder and date of completion.