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Published: March 11th 2008
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In Japanese, the word for autumn is
aki, a combination of tree, or
ki and red,
aka.
The Japanese love to talk about the changing of the leaves, especially the beautiful Japanese Maple trees. But sadly, these native trees are hard to come by. Many years ago, Japan was in crisis. Their buildings, furniture, and livelihood in general depended on wood and they destroyed their forests, resulting in devastating landslides and severe deforestation. Nowadays the mountains of Japan are covered in lush greenery. While Japan is now a model example of efficient reforestation, it has inadvertently destroyed the beauty of its natural landscape: the trees they chose to reforest with are pines, planted in uniform rows, causing the mountains to lack the natural beauty of variety. Japan’s solution to the erosion was cement making whole mountainsides into grey slabs, as well as riverbeds and even lakes. One can't expect to raft in any of the rivers because they are all damned. Japan, a country renowned for its delicate, refined art and attention to detail has no sense of aesthetics when it comes to landscape, city planning, and modern architecture. This brings me to my recent trip to Kyoto.
For years, I
imagined Kyoto to be a magical city, a city of temples, art, mystery and refinement. When I arrived, I found an unappealing urban sprawl of cheap, 5 story cement blocks, crammed shopping districts covered in signage, noise blarring from pachinko (gambling) parlors, and a web of telephone wires, blocking out the sky.
There are still thousands of temples and shrines in Kyoto, and in defense, they are very pretty, its just that they are sandwiched in between neon, cement, and noise. As expected, all of the main attractions were clogged with a sea of tourists, and souviner stalls. It was the first time I’ve seen so many westerners since I left the airport in August.
Main attractions included
Kinkakuji, a shrine embossed in gold leaf,
Sanjusangen-do a house of 1000 and 1 Buddhas, and
Kiyomizu, the most famous temple in Kyoto.
But my favorite place was
Fushimi Inari Taisha, famous for its 3000 red
torii which zigzag up the side of a mountain, offering a superb view of all Kyoto. There are many paths to choose from and strange alters along the way, dedicated to fox
kami. At both the entrance to the mountain and at the top lie magnificent
brightly painted shrines. I went late in the afternoon, met the sunset at the top, but was caught in darkness as I descended. I discovered that foxes were not the only inhabitants of this shrine, it is also home to hundreds of feral cats and raccoons.
Nishiki Market is a must see for anyone with a curiosity in the eccentric. The most memorable delicacy I consumed there were the octopus lava balls, known as
takoyaki, steaming hot doughy balls concealing a single tentacle in each center. But you can also watch firsthand as mochi (sweey rice paste treats) are made.
Although there is much to see and do in Kyoto, it was lacking the magic which the aged, forgotten shrines of my little village provide. In Kyoto, the freshly painted giants sit passively while bus loads pull in and out for a picture and souviner. Watching this, I got the feeling that the Japanese have turned their heritage into an amusement park for themselves. Although most will tell you they are Buddhist or Shinto, I can't see any trace of what I would call a religion amongst them. People go to the shrines to pay respects to their ancestors, to
wish for good fortune, or to partake in a ceremony or festival because it is tradition to do so. The interactions with the shrine remind me of superstitious ritual, like throwing a coin into a well and making a wish.
As the honeymoon phase wears off for me, I've begun to analyze my surroundings and situations more.
The other day at school, the English teacher passed out worksheets to the students. They were supposed to complete the sentences, “It is (good/bad) to watch TV because…” and write a reason. One of the questions near the bottom read, “It is (important/not important) for us to learn English because…”
After class, I sat correcting the papers. Most of the students had chosen, “It is important for us to learn English”, but their reasons were indirect. Most wrote, “because we can speak better English”. And then there was the few that wrote, “It is not important for us to learn English,” the reason being “because, we are Japanese”. It was hard to argue with that. Most of these kids are the children of farmers or factory workers. Unless they plan on traveling abroad, they will probably never use English apart from it being
slapped on everything they buy in the form of slogans. Those that use English in their professions here use it to translate all the imported cultural influences into Japanese. If I had to convince the kids that English should be important to them, it would be a hard argument to prove. All I can do, in my position, is try to make English appealing to them, make it fun, and maybe even make them see that they will benefit by having a global conciousness.
That brings me to societal conciousness, something thriving well here:
I was oftentimes confused when I first arrived to find students strolling around in their uniforms on the weekends. Dually, I began to notice that all of the old women tending their rice fields seemed to wear the same bonnets, aprons, and slacks. The businessmen all wear recognizable suits and the teenagers all sport the same jean jackets. Why dress this way when you don’t have to? Do they want to be labeled? Perhaps they feel more comfortable allowing their uniforms to clearly and proudly display what role they are playing in society.
The one exception to this uniformity of dress seems to be the realm
of accessories. Umbrellas, pencil cases, you name it. This is also where hello kitty comes in, and as far as age is concerned, she knows no bounds. Colorful and tacky, everyone sports a collection of cellphone charms, cute fans, handtowels and paperclips.
As I was talking to a friend today, he said to me, “You know, the situation we are in right now, we have never been this free of societal constraints”. As a foreigner here, I don’t feel tied to any of my societal obligations back home, and I am not expected to conform to the ones I am in here. I merely observe, living in a sort of floating world all my own…
*-*to view a more complete collection of my photos,
click
HERE
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