Kabuki, hydrangea, and all things green

Will the wicked woodsman chop down the giant cherry blossom tree? Not if the spirit of the tree can reveal to him the beauty and importance of the cherry blossom. Kabuki theater. On Friday night the spirits were with us and we managed to see the final performance of the season at the Kabuki Theater here in Kyoto. An absolutely fascinating experience that seduced us into something like genuine enthusiasm. But who knew? The theater itself seated maybe four hundred people and we had chosen tickets up in the balcony. When the lights went out and the curtain went up we were in total darkness and an elaborately costumed woman was alone on the stage. Of course, there are no women in Kabuki, not for centuries. So, we were seeing the most famous Kabuki interpreter of female roles--Bando Tamasoburo (a rock star in Japan). With a voice and drum accompaniment, (s)he moved very slowly through a sequence of slow (did I say slow?) movements which, in effect, created one full turn of her body. Along the way her brightly colored robe slipped off her shoulders onto the floor revealing another brightly colored robe beneath. This pantomime took fifteen minutes and then the curtain was lowered to thunderous applause. Terry and I looked at one another utterly clueless (truth is--Bill said, "is the paint dry yet?"). Was this Kabuki? An intermission after just 15 minutes? And then it really got weird. Virtually everyone in the house took out bento boxes or something similar and began to eat while sitting in their seats. Everybody. Big boxes of elaborate Japanese dinners. An indoor picnic. A full 25 minutes later the next act started. We were more than clueless at this point.

And that's when the woodsman made his appearance. For the next seventy-five minutes in a kind of vaudeville dance melodrama, the story unfolded while the house lights were merely dimmed. Three actors, in white make-up, would occasionally chant dialogue, but most of the time their feelings and thoughts were chanted by eight different male singers, but always one at a time. In one corner of the stage the woman had a group of five chanters along with five players of some stringed instruments to express her feelings and the woodsman had three of each across the stage. So, the telling of the story became an incredibly nuanced version of their inner conflicts. (There was also a tragic love story with a handsome but sad young man and a white bird hanging from a pole. But we'll leave his story for another time--it includes a bird bringing some kind of message, but we never quite understood it all). The woodsman gets drunk (an enormous red bowl of sake) and is going to chop down the cherry blossom tree with a huge axe. But a scrim in the tree trunk rolls up to reveal the spirit of the tree. She exits the tree and then the conflict begins. I didn't worry too much about the tree, but became engrossed in the feelings that were being expressed through all this elaborate staging. Actors often speak of their "instrument," but here the traditions of Kabuki gave the actors a complexity of "instruments." The woodsman had a costume change on stage (stagehands in black and gray scurried in and ducked behind the figure to help with the change) that revealed him to be some kind of evil figure. It was all quite wonderful. We couldn't take pictures so the ones here are from the program.


That was Friday night. Earlier that day, my Ritsumeikan colleague Yoshi Yamada took us to tour the Imperial Palace and out for a fabulous lunch at an all-tofu restaurant. Trust me, tofu comes in a seemingly infinite variety of tastes and textures and it's very good! Here's a picture of me and Yoshi in front of one of the building on the palace grounds.

Sunday we took the train to Uji, a small suburb south of Kyoto city that is famous for tea production. We went to see the requisite Byodoin temple with its famous winged "Phoenix" roof. But thanks to Jeff (my colleague and predecessor in this job), we hiked all the way to Mimurotoji Temple, way off the beaten path. As we neared the temple, the crowds increased and we discovered that we were visiting at the height of the hydrangea blooming season. It was spectacular! Acres of hydrangea of every conceivable hydrangea color--bright blues and purples fading into the softest of pinks--with blossoms the size of dinner plates. Earlier in the spring the garden had been ablaze with azaleas--those are the lovely green shapes in the background. At the top of an even steeper climb, we found the temple itself and Bill caught me at one of my favorite temple activities--ringing the large bell.















The little town itself, at least on the streets around Byodoin, seemed bathed in a green glow. Shops sold green tea flavored everything! We ate green tea noodles and green tea ice cream, and sampled a few other green tea delicacies. We've both actually developed quite a taste for the bitter frothy matcha of the tea ceremony, so I bought a whisk and some powder for our home consumption.

Monday again and not raining. It's the rainy season, but so far we've been quite lucky as it usually rains at night. Many of the days are heavy and humid though. Two classes this week (a relief after last week's marathon)--both on race discrimination. I already have over 80 ppts prepared! As everyone knows, there's quite a complex and sad history of race in the US. It's made me even more aware of how astonishing it is that Barack Obama was elected president. It's a lovely ending (at least in theory) to the "story" I'll be telling in this week's classes. Also this week--the second Legal Terms Quiz--this time from "Erie doctrine" to "strict liability." And the second "Movie Night" with "My Cousin Vinny" ("Itoko no Vinny"). It will be interesting to see how the humor translates. Thursday we're taking the Shinkansen to Tokyo to meet up with my friend Sondra who is coming to visit.

Another day, another three temples--and a shrine.

Seriously. I think we must average about 3 temples a day, and some days we don't sightsee at all. But here's how a typical day goes. Today we left early on our bikes because I had to pick up my Alien Registration card at a government office (thank God, I'm not in Arizona!). Afterwards, we wanted to go to Toji-Temple, which is on the far south side of Kyoto, because there's a huge market on the 21st of every month on the temple grounds. Toji is pretty spectacular in its own right--market (which was mobbed) or not. Its grounds include a five-story pagaoda (above) that is the largest pagoda in Japan. When the capital was moved from Nara to Kyoto in 794, two huge guardian temples were built on the east and west side of the southernmost gateway to the city. Toji is the east guardian temple. It retains its original architecture and layout and is a treasure house of Buddhist art. It also continues as an important Buddhist seminary and we saw many orange-clad monks, some of whom were standing at the entrance collecting alms, others were burning prayer sticks that you can purchase and write a prayer on. Then you leave it in a box and the monk burns it on the fire in front of him while he chants. Despite the market crowd, Toji was also filled with praying people, many praying in front of some of these spectacular statues of Buddha.

The grounds at Toji-in are lovely; here are two women picnicking by a small lake near the pagoda. One small lake was filled with turtles--I counted 13 without even trying.

So, now it's about noon and we decided that since we were in the "neighborhood," we would go to Sanjusangen-do, a holy building in which there are 1001 statues of Kannons (that's not a typo). I wasn't allowed to take pictures (signs every 10 feet or so say that they will check cameras at the exit--they didn't), so these pictures are from a book we bought in the shop. It is truly an awe-inspiring sight--1001 about 5-foot statues of the many-armed Kannon, each with a different face. There is a common belief that you can find the face of a loved one among them.

In front of the huge array are 28 frightening-looking "guardian" statues, and in the center a huge statue of an utterly beneficent Kannon. The whole thing takes your breath away.
Here's what the individual Kannon looks like close up.

Breathless and hungry by now, we went in search of lunch. We were wending our way north toward home on some back streets--we weren't exactly lost, I knew vaguely where we were--and, as is typical in Kyoto, you pass temple after shrine after temple. One shrine caught my eye and I stuck my head in the grounds. The whole shrine seemed to be dedicated to this pig-fish-whatever creature. Its statue was everywhere.

All the signs were in Japanese; this shrine was not meant for gaijin (people from somewhere not Japan) like us. So I have no idea what it was all about. Research anyone? I can't even look up the shrine because, remember, I only knew "vaguely" where we were.

Now we really mean it--lunch (it's about 3 pm). We were riding along another nondescript little street and saw a temple entrance that seemed to be attracting some people. We parked our bikes and went in. It turns out we were in Kennin-ji, the oldest Zen temple in Kyoto, filled with wonders. Going through a temple gate is sometimes like going through the back of the wardrobe into Narnia. Here's a little of what we saw--a Zen rock garden in the middle of the major temple building, along with a moss garden. An amazing painted dragon ceiling, a sweet little tea house, some major paintings on screens, and much more. All through that nondescript gate on that nondescript back street.

About an hour later (4 pm and still no lunch), we jumped on our bikes and, like heat-seeking missiles, went directly to our favorite noodle shop for what now had become an early dinner.
Bill here: we're talking about three or maybe four hours on our bikes; but as Terry says who knows what's around the next corner. If not a temple, maybe food. The 1001 statues was startling. Think about it: who has the power to arrange for the construction of these statues? And what is the belief system that would motivate him to do it? Imagine that you're a craftsman putting the lacquer on the statues before the gold leaf. What do you say to yourself? Good idea, O wise leader. We can use all these extra soldiers! Or, what a bloomin' idiot, but the work's steady. You stand there in that room and look at all those statues and it simply defies any kind of sensible explanation. Quelle day!

Trip to the "Japanese Alps"

This past weekend we took a trip (an exursion) to Takayama, a small town in the "Japanese Alps," about a 4 hour train ride from Kyoto, in central Honshu that has the largest mountains, aside from Mt. Fuji, in all of Japan. Nagano, the site of the 1998 Winter Olympics, is in these mountains. The trip was beautiful toward the end, as the train wound its way along the Hida River into the mountains. The Hida is white water much of the time and we passed at least 2 large dams that seem to be a huge supply of electricity for this part of Japan. Takayama, surrounded by 10,000 foot mountains, has retained a specific culture
because of centuries of isolation. The rich supply of timber created a tradition of carpentry and woodworking that is centuries old.

Takayama, like so much of Japan, is a zoning board's worst nightmare--a beautifully preserved downtown area of centuries-old one- and two-story homes made of dark wood. All this surrounded by ugly urban development that results in a jumble of ancient and beautiful with blight (not unlike Kyoto). You have to begin to erase the blight parts in order to enjoy Japanese towns and cities.

In the old section, several of the old homes house small sake distilleries and for a few yen you can sample the wares. In one of the places we sampled, the tradition was to drink from a small wooden box that was served with salt that you licked from your hand (a la tequila) after a swallow. Here it is being demonstrated; because the box is filled to overflowing (a sake custom), you have to bend down and slurp from the side.We were quite good at it, having practiced slurping noodles for several weeks now. Many of the other houses were made into small shops--very nice ones, with some beautiful carved wood, lacquered wood bowls and trays, and other local crafts.

We stayed in a minshuku, which is a small version of the traditional Japanese inn, a ryokan. Our room had tatami mats and a single low table with three chairs for sitting on the floor. That's all. In the evening the staff came in and laid out futons and bedding. The room had a sink and toilet, but for bathing, you don a yukada (cotton robe) supplied with the room and use the common hot baths. It's perfectly acceptable to hang out in the yukada and even to go to dinner in it. Which gets me to the Takayama cuisine.

Because of its isolation, Takayama developed a specific local cuisine that uses mountain vegetables (ferns and the like), many of them pickled (there's even a pickling festival in the fall), local river fish and Hida beef. The beef is often served shabu-shabu style. At our first lunch in Takayama, Bill, who ordered beef, was served at a large pot on a burner at the table. The waiter threw in a bunch of vegetables and then brought Bill a plate of thinly sliced raw beef. English was minimal but we figured out that he was to put it into the pot and cook it. So he did. I ordered a "lunch set" of local vegetables, which came with this little fish. For once I did not embrace all things Japanese--I just couldn't bring myself to eat the head, tail, and all! Dinner was at the minshuku, seated on the floor in a large dining room. We were served many, many small dishes, from sashimi to tempura, with more pickles and shabu-shabu, some of which we had no idea what it was. Most of it was quite delicious and probably better not to know too many details.

The best sightseeing of Takayma was a short bus ride to Hida No Sato, a folk village made up of houses of the region that were moved to this one site to preserve the culture. It's big--we went in about 10 different houses. This one picture of an attic shows the unusual construction--no nails, just rope to hold it all together. In some of the houses, people who actually live there were doing traditional crafts--here weaving--in another place making the shingles for many the roofs that have to be changed every 3 years. Some of the houses had the gassho-zukuri roofs (picture), the steeply slanted roofs because of the heavy snow that are said to resemble "praying hands." The grounds also included several rice paddies and a pond.

Bill here: the room at our minshuku was across the street from a temple. At 6AM a monk struck a very large bell and then proceeded to pound away on some loud drum in some apparently significant religious rhythm. A good start to the day?!

So overall--an interesting experience and a fascinating look at old Japan. We were happy, though, to return "home"--our sweet little apartment in Kyoto. Busy, busy week coming up. In Tuesday's class, I finish up the "basics" with a class on Torts; then Wednesday, I'm doing a class on constitutional law and the right to privacy; the students are reading Griswold, Roe, and Lawrence. "Privacy," says one of my slides, "is everywhere and nowhere." I realized that I have to take on levels of scrutiny (or "Tears of Scrutiny" as I like to think about it) for it all to make sense. By the way, movie night last week went great with "Runaway Jury." I started the movie after class, which is 7:45. It's not mandatory but everyone stayed. As preposterous as the plot is, it's filled with "peremptory challenges" and the like so it was fun for the students to see the abstract in action. I think the next movie will be "My Cousin Vinny." Also this week I'm invited to a dinner to meet other women faculty from the University (Tuesday night), Thursday I'm teaching a class on Civil Procedure to an undergraduate law class and having lunch with the professor, and Friday one of my colleagues from the law school (Yoshi Yamada) is taking me and Bill to tour the Imperial Palace and out to lunch.

The bell at Myoshin-ji is tolling--must be time to say Sayonara. Have a great week!

I'm just a girl who can't say Noh . . . .

Sunday we went to a truncated Noh performance and demonstration of some of the preparation of a Noh performer. All this was arranged by my Ritsumeikan colleague, Shiro Okubo and his wife Mariko. We met them at a train station and walked to a small theater (in their neighborhood, I think). We took off our shoes and sat on cushions on the floor. The theater is owned and operated by a Noh actor, who explained many of the concepts before being dressed as the character Tenko on stage and performing Tenko's final dance.

A bit about Noh--it's classical Japanese musical drama, in which many of the characters wear traditional masks. Here's a few of them:

Noh performances usually take place in shrines and a performance often lasts all day (reminds me a bit of cricket--incomprehensible and long). The piece we saw came from a play called "Noh Tenko," an ancient Chinese story from the 14th century. It begins when the boy Tenko finds a drum (Heaven's Drum) that has fallen down from heaven. On it, he plays beautiful music. The emperor hears about the drum and summons Tenko to bring it to him, but instead of obeying, Tenko runs away into the forest. He is caught and drowned as punishment. Now the emperor has the drum, but no one is able to get a sound out of it. The emperor summons Tenko's father, who does go and is able to play on the drum. When he plays, the spirit of Tenko appears and dances, as he does for all eternity, on the waves.

On Sunday, the actor came on stage and proceeded through the stages of the elaborate dressing that is part of Noh. Here are the stages from several layers of costume (several "dressers" are required to pull it all together), to the wig (this one is the typical "boy" wig), and then the mask (again, a typical "boy" mask). I might not get the pictures in perfect order (I'm not very skilled at arranging a blog), but I think you can get the gist.

The very first picture at the top of the post is how he turned out. I couldn't take pictures during his dance, which was accompanied by drumming and guttural chanting. I have to say, it was quite beautiful and very spooky with that impassive mask that does seem to change expressions slightly as the actor moves.

Bill's reactions: it was very spooky partly because it was clearly so much about passion and yet there was so little to see that was human. The costume almost completely distorts the human shape, yet while this shape moves around in a kind of ritualized dance the mask remains utterly impassive. The music comes occasionally from a breathy flute along with two drums, each making its own sound in its own rhythm, while the drummers are shouting in guttural outbursts. These sounds were not like anything I've ever heard, and this dehumanized shape was hopping around in some kind of response. Yet it remained compelling.

Shinto shrines

Busy week with a faculty meeting, lunch with the Dean, and two classes--Civil Procedure and Criminal Procedure. Eighteen Japanese law students are scratching their heads over the "Exclusionary Rule"--but, then, aren't we all? I also gave the first "Legal Terms Quiz"--we acquire terms in each class and every fifth class, they get a quiz on them. I think I was as nervous as the students because I had no idea if the whole thing was beyond them or not. Turns out not. They had 25 terms to study from "federalism" to "jury nullification" and many of them did great on the quiz! I'm hoping it will build confidence with their English and their overall view of what's going on in the course.

But, this post is about Shinto shrines. Did I mention that there are 3500 sacred sites in Kyoto? Yep. And close to 1000 of them are Shinto shrines. A shrine (as opposed to a temple, which is Buddhist) is marked by a vermillion gate in shape of the Greek letter pi (called a torii). This is the gate at one of the most important shrines in Kyoto, Heian-jingu, the one with the iris gardens that I wrote about a couple of weeks ago. The typical gate is guarded by these creatures, one at each side of the gate, one with its mouth open, the other with its mouth closed. Inside the torii, you find a jumble of lanterns and smaller shrines, each one dedicated to a different deity or spirit (kami). There aren't exactly gods in Shinto, but everything has a sacred spirit attached to it--a tree, rocks, rivers, the sky, even a teacup. And we all have kami nature within ourselves. For example, there are some shrines dedicated to the spirit of academic success, so the hoardes of middle-schoolers on their school excursions pray at these shrines before they take their high school entrance exams. Or, if your knee aches, you might go to a specific shrine dedicated to knee aches and pray for relief.This guy on the right is one of my favorites. I don't know what he specialiazes in but he was attracting a lot of young women. But before any prayer or any approaching the spirits, you purify yourself by washing your hands and mouth, using these wooden ladles and this stone basin that are found near the entrance to every Shinto shrine. Purification rituals are central to Shinto.At many of the small shrines, you can write your petition on a piece of wood and leave it hanging; this shrine, I can only guess, is dedicated to affairs of the heart.

You can also shake a box and get an oracle on a white slip of paper. If it's a good fortune, you take it with you. If not, you tie it around a fence-like structure near the small shrine and leave it to get better. Here's a bunch of bad fortunes, hoping to improve by proximity to a spirit.

But there's more.

Some of the shrines have a bell on a long rope. You give an offering, ring the bell, and clap twice so you can be sure the spirit is listening. Then you bow twice and offer your prayer (almost always a request). Then you bow and clap again.

Yasaka-jinja, where many of these pictures were taken, is adjacent to Gion, Kyoto's "floating world" of Geiko (geisha), Maiko (Geiko in training), hostess bars, excellent restaurants and cheesy touristy ones, and all kinds of sordid stuff found in any city of the world. Yet here, too, you find small neighborhood shrines, just a single small place where people come to honor a spirit/deity. Shinto and Buddhism have no clear demarkation in Japan; many Buddhist temples include a small Shinto shrine. The Japanese, most of whom declare themselves "atheists," nonetheless will take a baby for baptism at a Shinto shrine and bury their loved ones at a Buddhist temple. The Buddhist monk (who just taught us meditation--but that's another post) said that religion in Japan is "practical religion." You do what works (or what you believe works). Shinto has no text, no god, no official code of behavior or worship. It's the ancient, indigenous religion of Japan that still exists in this high-tech world.
This is a small shrine in Gion; it's about 6 p.m. on a Friday, and people stop by for a quick word with the kami.
Bill here: the grounds of a Shinto shrine feel very sporadic; almost everywhere you turn you'll find a particular shrine, many of them quite small. The Buddhist temples seem much more organized with large buildings serving as the center of many sub-temples within the temple complex itself. I never quite know where to turn next in a Shinto shrine, but I imagine it being something like a large European cathedral with many side altars where one might pray or petition at a side altar dedicated to Mary or St. Peter.

Terry again--arguments abound as to whether Shinto is a religion or a "folk way." Yet its rituals and festivals, rooted in the cycle of life and in the numinosity inherent in all things, certainly persist in 21st Century Japan. The practice of Shinto, they say, leads us to live in harmony with dai shizen no meguri--the ceaseless cycle of Great Nature.