26 November 2007

feast for the eyes

thanksgiving came and went without even realizing it. i happened to glance at my computer where my friend roger had left me a thanksgiving message and it dawned on me that i had missed the holiday. no matter- this year thanksgiving was a visual experience because i got to see the legendary leaves change in kyoto.

i desperately needed to get out of nagoya, so i woke up at 4:30 and took the first train out to kyoto. as the sun rose, we passed through gifu and i could see the snow touched sky slopes and the leaves beginning to turn. my train twisted itself through mountain passes and persimmon orchards and i felt freedom like a physical change in my body. i felt like wordsworth, gaining strength by leaving the stink of the city behind.
kyoto has 17 world heritage sites, which means they have historical significance and are recognized by the UN. throughout the weekend, i would visit about seven of them and take five hundred photos. my friend jonah greeted me at the train station with his friends toyota and mari. we dropped off my luggage and were right off to our first sight, Tenryu-Ji. this temple was constructed in 1339 when Emporer Go-Daigo had a nightmare about a dragon. This site was supposed to ward off the danger from the dream with its spectacular gardens. the pond had coy as long as my forearm and overlooked the changing mountains. after this, we strolled through the crowds along kyoto river before rendevousing with our friends at kyoto station, the controversial modern structure in japan's most historical city. from there we walked past an authentic japanese wedding to Kiyomizu-Dera which is a buddhist temple built without any nails which sits on the edge of a steep cliff. our friends tested their luck at the love shrine and drank magic water said to give you wealth and luck.














we were trapped in a crowd stampede when we cut down a side street to go spotting geisha in the gion district. i saw many maiko, or geisha in training, including an extremely rare male maiko, but i was told that to see a real geisha is extremely rare. these women are trained to host parties and entertain men with conversation and gentility, so they are too refined to be seen posing with tourists. however, i did get to see 2 real geisha walking down the street, but they were so quick on their wooden sandals that i couldn't get my camera ready in time.

the following day, jonah and i went bike riding all around kyoto. we started with Ryoan-Ji, with its famous pond and rock garden. the garden contains 15 rocks and intricate raked gravel, but i was more impressed by the trees and ducks by the pond. from there we pedaled to Ginkaku-Ji and Nijo-Jo, both of which had gorgeous leaves turning. Nijo-Jo is the imperial palace of japan, where the shogun lived. it is famous for its stunning screen paintings and its nightingale floors. these floors squeak when you walk on them so that samurai couldn't storm the palace without being detected. outside there are beautiful gardens and even a traditional tea ceremony where women in kimonos serve bowls of steaming tea and touch their foreheads to the floor before scooting away from your view of the gardens. we saw a hawk demonstration and at rice balls covered in sweet soy sauce, then continued our exploration to Maruyama-Koen and Tetsugaku-No-Michi- a stunning park and a famous walking trail called philosopher's path. the day was capped off by a night viewing of Eikan-Do, which boasts the most spectacular leaves. this shrine had gorgeous illuminations and a small performance by 6 traditional japanese musicians in front of the temple entrance.



























the next day, i was exhausted so when the crowds surged to get into Tofuku-Ji, i turned around and elbowed my way off the bridge. it really was beautiful, but not worth a fight. instead jonah and i made a picnic and wandered to Fushimi-Inari Taisha. after eating, we began the 4 km hike with no intention of finishing. we got about halfway through counting 1,875 torii, or gates, along the way. apparently, the torii were built for inari, the goddess of grain in order to bring bountiful harvest. along the trail there were many miniature shrines, figurines wearing bibs, and gravestones wrapped in red fabric. the trail had a queer peace to it, kind of creepy but tranquil nonetheless. we climbed until we found a nice lookout and sat with a small group of japanese to watch the sun set over kyoto.


















at this point, i was ready to return home and take the long trek back to reality. imagine my surprise when, after all of these glorious moments, i found a cafe du monde in the kyoto train station. so my thanksgiving trip concluded with a shining moment from home, sipping cafe au lait between the Bourbon and Bienville street signs in kyoto station.

18 November 2007

sputnik sweetheart

last night i was in one of my reflective moods, so i curled up in my little pink couch with a cup of tea and read all day. the wind was howling outside, so intensely bitter it was strange to realize that it's only the beginning of fall. i moved to my bed, but i still couldn't keep my hands warm. it's amazing that in a country supposedly so technologically advanced, there is little trace of such things. there is no insulation, which means it's freezing in the winter and roasting in the summer. without my little electric heater, my apartment is only a little warmer than the outside.

at the end of sputnik sweetheart, i was left with another glimpse into the japanese psyche which crystallized a lot of things that i've been experiencing. here is the quote which struck me the most:

“So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from us- that’s snatched right out of our hands- even if we are left completely changed people with only the outer layer of our skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”

this author uses surrealist writing to escape consciousness, because reality is too oppressive to deal with consciously. but of course reality would be impossible to deal with if you allowed yourself to be silenced by your culture and controlled by the values of the majority instead of yourself.

i finished the book and closed it. i then went for an hour run through the streets of nagoya from imaike to sakae and back. i didn't even feel the cold or the ache of my muscles because it felt so good to be free. the wind and the chill and the time of night could not keep me in my apartment. the wild looks of the locals as ran through red lights and whipped around oblivious pedestrians didn't faze me. empowered, i took control of my emotions that night. i will not be a scream silenced by a fear of standing out of upsetting the flow of things. i will not let anything rob me of my individuality.

06 November 2007

yakuza, kindy and nationalist propoganda

where stealing internet at my old apartment required hours of standing, the balcony of my new apartment allows me a chair and an inside look at the workings of my neighborhood. given its reputation as a yakuza neighborhood, this should be much more interesting. i see the occasional motorcycle and shiny cadillac, but nothing that lives up to bad-boy reputation that the yaks have.

when i told my boss, honda-san that i was moving to imieke, he said "i do not recommend" but it's pretty tame. there is a yakuza club down the street but it's completely silent, like a silver fortress surrounded by tinted black escalades. as i've mentioned, reputation is a lot for japanese, so i found it funny that i was dissuaded from living here when my old neighborhood, kanayama, is where the yakuza actually party.

this doesn't even account for the droves people -a few homeless scattered among wasted businessmen- sleeping on the benches in a swanky shopping center. one homeless lady who had a killer spot right by the bridge on the outskirt of the mall. she wore a different outfit everyday, always had cigarettes and recieved visitors (who were suprisingly well dressed, i might add) who squatted in her little area, joining her for tea- which she made with her range. (not sure how she powered it, but i swear i saw a rice cooker there too... i know. i don't get it either). i actually looked for her today as i passed kanayama on the train to my morning kindy class. i could barely see her gray hair behind the white fence, but i could make out a little something huddled there and i don't know why, but i was comforted.

i rode the train through kanayama and went to taiko kindy for my first morning class. i have been dreading these because jlittles have a terrible reputation for the koncho: when two fingers are aggressively trust into the bum of an unsuspecting adult. up to now, i've taught littles in manageable numbers (like 6...which was tough), but today it was a lot- 4 classes of 30 followed by my regular 2 classes: 3 and then 7 littles.

first class of the day: i am seated on the floor getting my CD for the Hokey Pokey cued up, when a young jlittle approaches and sneezes on me. i am understandably disoriented and a little grossed out when a younger, seemingly innocent jlittle girl walks up and flashed me (which is a little weird because her cooch was at eye level and way too close to my face). so i stand up to gain my distance, at which point she punches me in the vagina. yes, you heard it.

so now i have officially been punched in the vagina twice! the day continues like this with a few bits of "kawaii" stuck in there. at one point, i completely loose control of my class of 30. they are chasing each other, screaming, touching colors and skidding across the floors into furniture. the official sensei has one in her arm upside down while comforting another, cooing , "daijabu?"

i look around- the scene is absolutely absurd. so absurd in fact that i laugh out loud. " this is a disaster," i say aloud, knowing no one can understand me anyway. i walk to the far side of the room, remembering what i learned as a teacher in miami: you can never be louder than a class of kids. when you want to get their attention, speak softly.

i sit, tucking my legs under my butt and sing the itsy bitsy spider- walking the spider with my fingers, twisting and touching, while singing as softly as i can. a few almond eyes flicker my way and slowly they start to kneel around me, enthralled with my fingers and alien words. they gather around like a little flock of lambs, mimicking my fingers and hand motions. i start to laugh again.

so now there is a truck passing through my neighborhood blaring noise that's supposed to be music. it sounds like the islamic call to prayer in turkey, but not as pretty. i can't tell if it's nationalist propaganda or someone selling sweet potatoes, but the sound is harsh and unappealing. whatever it is, it's too much for me right now and too chilly on the balcony.