THE PASSION OF TANAKA ISSON, AND THE SPIRIT OF AMAMI OSHIMA

How to begin this post, I wonder, after such a long break.  I am thinking about all those summer distractions, and feel I should say I am sorry for not posting anything new here for so long.  I am truly sorry.

Life happens; emotions build then vanish, like the ebb and flow of tides.  Sometimes in the calm of the evening, when the water looks like glass, with all those wonderful hues of purple and pink and soft light blue, all I need is right there in front of me. Then the mood is so quiet that perhaps the inspiration to write has just left me, vanished on the outgoing tide.   Am I empty of the energy to express what I feel or am I unable to feel?

I certainly wish I could attribute the above to some famous writer, but, nope, sorry, just me waxing introspective, trying to rationalize being lazy about writing.  Actually, it has been partly that and partly how to write about this artist that has puzzled me.   Usually, as I go to sleep at night or I drive around on errands,  I compose my posts, sometimes word for word.  No problem.  But since I am not an art critic, just one who appreciates and loves some art more than others, I need to write carefully.  I feel a responsibility to relate what Tanaka Isson made me feel, and try to have you feel it, too.  It is not just about his art; I want you to feel the nature of Tanaka Isson.

Probably it was the time and the place, the state I was in emotionally and physically, that made what this wonderful artist painted come alive for me.  I felt every palette of color that he created, on silk or on paper board, water colors or mixed colors Nihonga style.  There in front of me was that beautiful paradise where he lived, Amami Oshima.  It was like a mathematical equation, only it was art.  Tanaka felt the nature of Amami Oshima, I felt the nature of Amami Oshima.  Therefore, I felt the nature of Tanaka Isson.  He had the gift, the will to paint, but we shared the passion.

I had never seen this flower we call angel trumpet, but I loved it on sight.  My photo illustrates my enchantment with what I saw and below is what the artist painted.

     

Titled Datura to Akashobin (Angel trumpet and ruddy kingfisher)  Nihonga paint on silk  61"x24"

Enlarged detail

I went there once, you know, to Amami Oshima.  I have a friend, Brigid, who lived there and worked as an ALT in several schools on the island.  What a romantic life she must have led, an island where sugar cane grew, with coral reefs and so many fishes, mountains with jungles and colorful birds, and the beat of taiko drums.  

Brigid studied two traditional Japanese instruments there on Amami Ohima.  The koto, a 13 stringed instrument about 6 feet long, is played by kneeling in front of it.  She also played taiko drums.   These are the drums played with thick, long drum sticks, and as the speeds increase, the drummer jumps and moves, and your own heart beat increases until you feel the intense energy the drummer feels.  Brigid could actually do that, and I envied her her talent, hard work and her very full life there on the island, with many friends and activities.  I felt lucky to have been able to share it with her on that short visit.

Yes, Japan was the magical place that allowed me to explore a lot of new places, and myself as well.   It  was an exotic place where taiko drums made my heart beat, where the clouds mirrored themselves on the water, and  where the flowers seemed to speak to me, to lead me down every new path and turn to explore and seek new wonders.  And no place was more magical than Amami Oshima, no artist more magical to me than Tanaka Isson.

It's been 20 years now since I discovered this artist.  And the thing is, I discovered him after I visited Amami Oshima.  I fell in love with the colors and the nature on the island first, with a single visit. It was tropical and windswept from a typhoon when I arrived.  

Since I went by ferry, a very long, rough 12 hour overnight trip heading due south, I arrived with a migraine and was weak from being seasick, terribly seasick.  But, hey, when you get motion sickness often, you learn to cope.  So, after a few hours of settling in and getting hydrated, Brigid got me out and about and we went to her taiko lesson.  It was great, and we were surrounded by her really good friends on the island. Of course, afterward we went out with all of them to eat, drink, talk, laugh and be merry.  I was immersed in the energy and spirit of the taiko drums, the palm trees and sounds of the island, and the slightly humid air and salt water breezes.  

Perhaps I sat on the same beach Tanaka Isson painted.  "Yageshinoki"  Nihonga paint on silk 62"x29"

The next day Brigid had to work so I explored the town of Naze on my own.  I visited the very famous Tsumugi silk factory, some other shops, and a beautiful sand beach.  I indulged in freshly steamed mussels, sitting under a palm tree, watching the waves roll in.

The salesman suggested a colorful kimono in beautiful tsumugi silk that he knew I would like because it matched the colors of my shirt.

Later a friend of Brigid's took me on a tour of the Kinsakubaru Forest, a mountainous jungle like I had never seen before.  Although I didn't sight any tropical birds, I certainly tried.  I wanted to see that ruddy kingfisher.  Perhaps they were still taking cover after the typhoon.  But the colors of the leaves and trees and flowers in the park and all over the island were like an aphrodisiac for the soul.

When I got back on the ferry to return to Kagoshima, I had a wonderful surprise.  Brigid's taiko group was going to be on the same ferry, going to a matsuri on the mainland.  They quickly pulled me onto their blanketed area of tatami mats, and shared their obento (lunches).  As night fell we all spread out to sleep on the mats until our morning arrival.  The seas were calmer, and I was in good company though still a little seasick.  Nevertheless, I left with many good memories tucked away not only in my mind but also in my heart.

When I was telling a  teacher at my high school about my visit, he pointed out the work of Tanaka Isson.  The teacher loved nature as well, and had lived and taught on Amami Oshima.  He was a real admirer of this artist now famous for his connection to the island  The teacher was happy to share the information he knew.  

Eventually, I would find articles in my English newspaper about Tanaka Isson.  Some of his paintings were on exhibit in Tokyo, and I could read the article in the English newspaper. Finally, they came to be exhibited in the city of Kagoshima where I could go and see them in person.  

The flyer advertising the Tanaka Isson Art Exhibit coming to the Yamakateya department store in Kagoshima.  The exhibit was in October, 1995.  This is from a painting called Amami no Yashiro #6, a series he painted of various exotic plants.

Amami no Yashiro #6 as copied from my book on Tanaka Isson

Though I had not yet seen Tanaka Isson's art, I had seen the colors of the island and the rest of my senses allowed me to feel the island somewhere deep in my soul.  And so, when I did, in fact, see some of Tanaka's work, I was immediately at one with it.  He painted what I had felt - magic! 

The teacher had recounted to me a bit of the story of Tanaka Isson. Through further reading I found he was the son of a sculptor, all set for fame and riches as an artist in Tokyo in the early 1900's.  He had to leave his painting studies due either to his father's death and loss of income and/or his own illness from tuberculosis.   He managed to survive the illness and WWII, scraping by but still trying to paint outside of Tokyo.  When some of his art was rejected after submission for exhibit in 1947, he imposed a self exile from the Tokyo art world.    

After working various jobs to meet his basic needs on the outskirts of Tokyo, Tanaka Isson walked away from all of it in 1958, and somehow chose the beautiful island of Amami Oshima for his escape.  He made the move when he was 50 years old.

The artist, TANAKA ISSON, 1908-1977, on his beloved Amami Oshima.

On the small island in post-war Japan, he had to provide for his own needs to survive.  He acquired a humble laborer's job dying silk in pools of mud in a most famous silk business on the island.  In fact, it was the same silk factory I visited there in 1995, the Tsumugi Silk Factory.  He lived in a very simple wooden home and had a garden where he grew his own food. 

But he was surrounded by the beauty and a timeless peace that allowed him his greatest luxury.  He found time to paint:  flowers, leaves, trees, water, fruit, fishes, birds.  He painted whenever he was not working.  He painted whatever he wanted to paint, for himself to admire.  He lived in anonymity, without fame or art exhibits or prizes for his work.  I admired the artist who chose his own path, to be his own man and his own artist.

cAmami no Yashiro No. 8, No. 1 and No. 10  in a series, Nihonga paint on silk, each about 61"by 29"

Amami no Yashiro No. 8  enlarged detail

Artist's lobster drawing

Brilliant colors were painted with a contemporary flair, detailed yet simple, and always fluid. Tanaka Isson lived his only passion.  He primarily practiced two techniques.  To paint on silk he used Nihonga style paints, colors he mixed himself by crushing certain mineral tablets, or seashells and mixing them to the hue he wanted.  The powders or granules were mixed with glue made from animals and water.  He also used water colors on paper board. The special paper techniques allow this type of painting to last for a hundred years or more without glass frames.  (Hence, you see many pieces of Asian art displayed on paper scrolls.) He made hundreds of paintings. 

Nindo ni Onaga birds on tree limb, Nihonga paint on silk 54"x16"

Detail from above painting

Tananka Isson died in 1977 at the age of 69.  He had never married.  His paintings were found after his death and a TV documentary in 1984 finally brought him to the public light.  The documentary compared his work to Paul Gauguin.  I would also compare him to Georgia O'Keefe.  In 2001,  Amami Oshima opened the Tanaka Isson Memorial Museum of Art, giving the artist his due. 

My intention in writing this was also to give him his due.  I wrote that we shared a passion for nature.  In researching this, light research, I might add, but still looking through the wonderful book I bought from the art exhibit, over 100 pages filled with his work and Japanese writing that I don't understand, I came across yet another intrigue of this passionate man.  He named his series of exotic flora Amami no Yashiro.  

Herein lies the last difficulty.  There's no easy translation, because Yashiro can mean forest, or Shinto shrine.  Often Japanese shrines are located in places of great natural beauty, i.e. sacred places.  I feel again closer to the artist; we are still kindred souls.  Because I feel he saw in every green leaf, each palm frond, blossom or butterfly's wing, the presence of God.  The artist had truly found his sanctuary in Amami Oshima. 

[Thanks, always, to Takehiro Iwakawa and Toshiro Nakamura, for helping with translations!  Also, to the Tanaka Isson art book, originally published to accompany the eleven city art exhibits throughout Japan in 1995.]



(To learn more about Tsumugi Silk check out this blog posting:
http://kagoshimakato.blogspot.com/2014/10/amami-oshima-part-iii-oshima-tsumugi.html   There are wonderful photos along with explanations of the lengthy process.)

KARAOKE, JANIS JOPLIN, AND ME

As the writer of this blog, I would like you the reader to conjure up a visual of  me dressed up like Johnny Carson (U.S. TV comedian/host of Late Night Shows) in his role as Carnac the Magnificent.  Wearing a huge turban on my head and holding a sealed envelope to my forehead I would say with mesmerizing wisdom: "Karaoke, Janis Joplin and Me."   The question would be "Gaijin, what can you do to embarrass yourself in this country?"

 Karaoke, pronounced like car-ah-oh-kay in Japanese, is like a national sport in Japan.  It requires a lot of courage to stand up in front of other people, hold onto a mike and sing!  It's now quite  popular here, but, of course, like all other things that travel into other cultures across oceans, it is a bit morphed.

My first experience with karaoke came at the second party, meaning not a party a few days after another party, but the nijikai, which means party following the enkai, first party of the evening.  This enkai was our first office party  about two and a half months after we arrived in Kaseda, and was officially to welcome Brian, my Irish counterpart in our school system, and me into the office work force.

We started with an insane amount of food in a local restaurant and moved to a nearby karaoke for our first experience with singing amongst co-workers.   We soon found that these parties are paid through deductions from the salaries, so a fund is always ready to fund them.  (We were exempt and we did not have to contribute, just  attend.)  The two office ladies went out and purchased large bottles of beer and shochu, a Kagoshima spirit made from sweet potatoes that was a less expensive alternative to expensive sake. It has a distinctly unpleasant odor and is often mixed into hot water to drink, just like sake.  (Now, shochu is highly sought after throughout Japan.)  

Iwamoto San, Brian, I and another office worker in front of large Nabe, ceramic cookpots for seafood, veggies and tofu to cook while we eat.  There were four of us for one bowl.

Exotic mangosteen from hotter climes in Asia, this time party was at the Chinese restaurant.

Fujita San, our Shocho, the man with the Golden Voice, enjoying the food, and also the spirits.  The bottles hold both beer and shochu. Also note that these parties show us all having a good time seated on the floor!

 The karaoke was on the second floor above a store, and had several  private rooms that could be booked for groups.  Most of the karaoke that I would attend was held in these private rooms so one was always with the people in their own group, which is better for overcoming shyness and possibly making a fool of yourself.  Food and drinks could be ordered but some establishments allowed you to bring your own.

Karaoke it turns out is something you really love and you   participate fully, or you love to listen and observe, or you do not enjoy it, period.  I came to love watching the others sing, and found it was a great way to learn Japanese writing with  hiragana and kanji written on the screen.

Though Brian and I were both music lovers, I don't think either of us fancied ourselves as singers.  Even my older son, as a young child, would ask me, "Please don't sing," when he was sick.  I  confine my singing voice to the car, driving solo or in my home when I am alone.

At that first karaoke, our plan was to observe and quietly refrain from attracting any attention, lest they decide to insist we sing, too.  Well, that worked for awhile.  During observations, we found the human side of our co-workers.  It peeked out occasionally at the office, especially if they had any English.  Our supervisors always smiled kindly, tried to include us in jokes, but often busily bowed, smiled a greeting and went to work.  

Kaseda San and I waiting for the karaoke to begin.

But at karaoke, I found most had favorite songs that they would sing with good to awesome voices.  I found I loved to hear our shocho, the head of our local board of education office, sing his favorites.  He had a wonderfully tender voice.  It didn't match his efficient, somewhat stern work face.  I was getting a look at the personalities of these people I had seen for the past several weeks, and I found likeable, fun-loving, real people.  I liked these parties.

But my first experience to sing in front of others was almost traumatizing.   At least I didn't have to go solo; Brian and I were a team when times got tough.  We were now confronted with choosing a song from pages of Japanese titles, (this choice would have been impossible), or a short list of songs in English that was so out-dated we were not familiar with the music.  

Now, if you can sing and carry a tune, and the words are spelled out for you on a screen, it should not be that difficult.  But we were facing all kinds of deficiencies and totally out of our comfort zones.  Our Japanese co-workers strongly  suggested we try "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."  Right, go ahead, what could be so difficult?  You know the song, right?

Well, yes, we had both heard it, but not recently.  Try singing it right now?  Can you sing beyond the title?  The song was written when I was four years old.  And poor Brian, it was way before his time.  It's probably not sung that much in Ireland, unless he still belts it out occasionally in a nostalgic moment after lots of Guinness!  But we tried it out and were applauded for our efforts, if nothing else. 

The next three photos may or may not be something out of the ordinary in Japan.  For most parties, spouses and families were not included.  But in our countrified area, far from the bright lights of Tokyo, we sometimes partied in our Shocho's home, and the wives did much of the hard work of the preparations.  Then they came along for karaoke.   These were the absolute best parties.  I found that our office was made up of people that had known each other for a very long time.  They laughed, ate,sang, partied, and worked together, and they gave support to each other in times of grief.  I was proud to be in their midst.

Mr. and Mrs. Fuchida

The Ishizonos ( Ishizono San was our immediate supervisor and was always so concerned over our well-being.)

The Kasedas

We soon learned that it is best to practice a couple of songs, even the oldest ones, to prepare to sing at later events.  Eventually, we would find other places in town with somewhat updated music lists, and the city had even more.  We moved up to the Beatles and the Carpenters.  Eventually I found several tunes I could work with and I remember that Brian found a favorite in "Dancing Queen."  Most ALTs  seemed to do all right with "Hotel California" and I heard it almost every time I went.  The Carpenters' songs were really loved by the Japanese, as were songs by Frank Sinatra, like "My Way".  Their music was not too fast and the words were sung clearly.   These were still not songs from the 80's and 90's but we were at least into the 60's and 70's.

Rosie, (Ireland), Mark (England), and I listen as Brian (Ireland) croons a tune, most likely "Dancing Queen".

My favorites were "Killing Me Softly With His Song", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", and when I got lucky, if they had "Me and Bobby McGee" I would sing that.  It was like a theme song;  I had come to Japan with nothing left to lose.  I could almost belt it out with some confidence.  In fact, I just found this on the Internet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POjrpDSVkE4 -  if you want to try it.  Oh, Internet, you would have made life so much easier 20 years ago.  

I will long remember when our shocho recognized some  of the meaning in the song.  He was reading along with the words on the screen, and he visibly sighed when he understood the words up there, "I would trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday, to be holding Bobby's body next to mine...."  (Those are just lyrics after all, not really trading off any of MY tomorrows!)

After those first  experiences, I was probably going to karaoke once a month, with teachers at different schools, my  office, or with Japanese friends and adult students.  A couple of times I even went with other ALTs.  It became truly enjoyable.  My voice didn't improve, but that was never the point.  It was about having a good time.  

For many of us ALTs it was also something more.  Music is a universal language.  We found this was a good way to communicate cross-culturally so we learned a few songs in Japanese.  We were encouraged to learn an easy Japanese song, that was somewhat popular here in the US in the 60's, the "Sukiyaki" song.  Do you know it?  I didn't, but it was pleasant and easy to sing.  A teacher found a paper copy with the hiragana printing(Japanese syllable writing) that I could practice on my own.  Soon I could sing that when we went out with the office people, and they were pleased I had tried.

In late October I was invited to a Japanese wedding.  They had karaoke there and I heard a really beautiful Japanese song that is often sung at weddings, called "Kanpai."  The song was written by Tsuyoshi Nagabuchi, who just happened to be a singer/writer from Kagoshima, so he was beloved by the locals and this song was his biggest hit..  

For some reason I loved this song and still do.   I went back to the teacher who had found the "Sukiyaki" song for me to see if he could find this one.  Understanding the song was considerably more difficult,  he went above and beyond my request.  I soon had a cassette, (oh, yes, the old days), with several of Nagabuchi's best songs, and the paper copy so that I could practice "Kanpai."  And I did, every night; and for weeks I went to sleep with that cassette playing while I drifted off to sleep.

Practicing the song paid off, in huge ways.  For example, I never had to sing "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" again.  But more importantly when I first sang it as a surprise for my office, they were completely stunned at my efforts.  There was visible approval that I had taken on the task, and that I clearly loved some of their music.  I will always love Nagabuchi's songs and especially "Kanpai".  I had a pianist play it at a bar before I left Kagoshima for good in '98.  I sobbed through it, and it can still bring tears to my eyes when I try to sing it.  


Once I went on a karaoke date with the kindest guy I ever met.  I was just getting to know him, and he told me he could sing love songs in English.  I found that terribly romantic, silly me.  He started out with Disney's "When You Wish Upon a Star."  You know, that actually is a romantic song, but not if you watched it along with Jiminy Cricket singing the "Encyclopedia" song every Sunday evening since you were six years old.  (By the way, do you still have to sing along with Jiminy to spell "encyclopedia" or is it just me?)

When my younger son came to visit me in Japan much further into my stay, he did one heck of a job on "Great Balls of Fire", but we got into trouble when we tried an Elvis duet.  Just into the first chorus of "Are You Lonely Tonight," he looked at me in horror, and said, "Wait, there's a speaking part in this song!"  Not to worry, Mr. Kindest Guy I Ever Met stepped in and did an excellent rendition of Elvis speaking with just a hint of Japanese accent. 
 

 Steve, my younger son and I singing Elvis!

 Another teacher who came from Okinawa sang the Boom's hit, "ShimaUta," "The Island Song."  It was all in Japanese but I could see tropical flowers, the sand and the warm blue waters when he sang on the video background.  Some of my best friends, Wei, Shawn, and Brigid lived on wonderful islands.  I always think of them when I think of that song, and will do a future blog on my visit to Brigid and "her" island, Amami Oshima.  Amami looked just like the background on the video of the song, which I have noted for you at the end of the blog if you want to check it out.

Now when I listen to music there are many songs that remind me of those parties.  Looking back now, I can see Rochelle's face as she sang a popular song from a favorite Japanese soap opera, "Haruyo Koi."  I can see Mrs. Ono do a near professional job of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in English.  I can see Takehiro singing Elton John's "Your Song," Nobuchan singing the Righteous Brothers "Unchained Melody" and Nancy singing Madonna's  "Material Girl."  Mr. Kindest Guy I Ever Met is still singing love songs, in Japanese, English and Spanish, like Besame Mucho.  As for myself,  I have retained a great fondness for "Me and Bobby McGee."   

Here are some very good links to most  of the Japanese songs mentioned above.  Sorry that they don't appear so you just click on it; you will have to copy and paste.  I would urge you to try a couple, especially if you never went to karaoke or Japan, because they show the beautiful scenery of Japan in some of the backgrounds, just like they look for real, and on the karaoke videos.  It's wonderfully natsukashi, nostalgic, for those who have been to Japan.

Here's the link to "Kanpai": 
 https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AitSOdKUe5mtHdLu_rgZ3gSbvZx4?p=japanese+song%2C+Kampai&toggle=1&cop=mss&ei=UTF-8&fr=yfp-t-901&fp=1&soc_src=mail&soc_trk=ma            choose the 4th video box with the cherry blossoms to get the good scenery backgrounds.  

And here's a link for a loose translation to the song:  http://www.lyricsforsong.net/lyrics/tsuyoshi-nagabuchi-kanpai-english-lyrics_kqijqo.html

  "The Island Song":  
 https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AitSOdKUe5mtHdLu_rgZ3gSbvZx4?p=the+boom+shimauta&toggle=1&cop=mss&ei=UTF-8&fr=yfp-t-901&fp=1 
  choose the second video box and see the Japanese writing for the karaoke song.
translation
http://www.animelyrics.com/jpop/theboom/shimauta.htm

"Haruyo Koi"
 http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2on33_haru-yo-koi_music
 I could not find a decent translation for this one.


Remember, I would love to have you leave a comment, perhaps your favorite song title???

"OH, THE PLACES YOU'LL GO", (Dr. Seuss)

Before I left for Japan, my sons gave me the very best possible presents.  One was a copy of Dr. Seuss' book, "Oh, the Places You'll Go."
                      “You're off to Great Places!
                       Today is your day!
                       Your mountain is waiting,
                        So... get on your way!”  
I don't think they had any idea how those words would be dreams   come true and just how far I would go, nor did I. 
  
The other two presents were an address book with a note to take my friends' addresses from the States, and to write down my yet to be made new friends' addresses and telephone numbers, and a Japanese bird book, in English.  They were perfect!

They didn't know the bird book would become worn, scuffed and dog-eared.  They had no idea the address book would help me survive the first lonely months, and that I would fill it with ALT names from around the world, and wonderful new Japanese friends' names as well.  But no one was more surprised than I. 

After the first meeting of all the ALT's in Kagoshima Ken, I gained a lot of confidence to head out and travel on my own.  I was getting familiar with using the bus, and friends were coming in via train and bus to visit me in Kaseda.  Some had bought used cars and were even driving, on the other side of the road.  It actually was no longer intimidating to take my backpack, money and passport and pick a new place to visit for a weekend.  I had my copy of "Fodor's Japan", my bird book, camera and binoculars, and I was pretty much free to go on the weekends.

Another large boost to my confidence was an ALT meeting, this one in  far away Kumamoto.  Not really that far in hindsight, a little more than 3 hours away.  But now I had to learn to use the train system, which by the way, was so easy.  Signs were in Japanese kanji, but also English and even with multiple tracks and platforms, clearly marked with not only the names of the cities but with directional arrows.  It would be difficult to go in the wrong direction, and I don't think I ever did. 


The meeting in Kumamoto was for 3 days and ALTs attended from not only Kagoshima, but also Kumamoto and Miyazaki Kens (states).  The realization that the world seemed to be opening up for me was empowering.  I became enamored of every shrine and temple, those wonderful tiled roofs, the mountains, streams, and little shops and houses and gardens.  I so loved the gardens. 

These mums were at the castle in Kumamoto.  In Japan, great pride and lots of care groom magnificently large and colorful flowers by choosing only one blossom to bloom on each plant and supporting that bloom on a wire support so its weight does not make it drop or break the stem.

Seeing my first bougainvillea and birds of paradise in bloom, in the ground, not a flower shop, as well as angel trumpets and poinsettia were all new sights for me.  I was in a new climate as well as a new country.  The ginko trees, the camelias, the large persimmons hanging from the trees in fall, seemed so welcoming.

Bougainvillea blooming in the south of Kagoshima near Ibusuki.

Soon it became seamless to hop on a bus in my town, just 2 blocks from my apartment, get off the bus at the train station in Kagoshima City and catch a train to see Rochelle in Okuchi, or Shawn in Kagoshima City, as well as just going into Kagoshima to visit with ALTs or go for lunch and shopping.  I felt so grown up! 

Rochelle took me to see Sogi no Taki (Sogi Falls) in Okuchi, Kagoshima Ken, Japan. 

Different areas had various ways to dry the harvested rice   This teepee style was in Okuchi. 

 

This sawhorse style rack made of bamboo was the chosen method to dry the rice in Kaseda where I lived.

 

 

But I would often feel the wonderment of a small child, seeing and learning new things every day. I was tabla rosa, an empty slate to hold all the sights and sounds, and even the smells and tastes.  Truly, I was in the right place at the right time for me.  And I didn't want to close my eyes and miss anything.

Around every nook and corner, even in the shops, were new things to see, kimono silks for souvenirs as scarves and change purses, native wood carvings, lacquer ware and ceramics.  The opportunities to learn about this new culture were endless.  Around a corner in Kumamoto was a rebuilt castle from the samurai days.  It's unfortunate but wooden buildings can burn or decay, so often the most beautiful sights were replicas of the real thing.  But they were wonderful places to learn and envision the history of this new land.

My first castle in Japan was Kumamoto Jo.  Of course, a land of enchantment must have castles.

If you can see the people down in front of the castle, you can get an idea of the scale of its true size.

Suizenji Koen, a formal Japanese garden in Kumamoto

A lovely example of the tiled roof on a building at the Japanese garden.

My ALT meeting in Kumamoto allowed me to follow my mother's bidding and track down a Japanese exchange student who had lived in my hometown in Pennsylvania a couple of years earlier.  Takako had stayed with her best friend's daughter, and my mother had met her several times.   I was on a mission, charged with carrying good wishes and letting her know they had not forgotten her.  When I called and spoke to Takako, she immediately said I must come to her home for dinner.  I took my friend Maria with me, and we were both given the royal treatment.  

Having dinner at Takako's home with her parents and brother.

Maria enjoyed getting together with this great family, too. The family setting reminded us of home.

Her mother had prepared local specialties, and it was here I was introduced to karashi rencom.  This is the root of the lotus, cut crosswise, stuffed with very spicy hot yellow mustard, (in the holes of the crosscut) and then each piece is floured and deep fried.  Later I would reflect that perhaps that was when a spell had been put on me.  I had eaten of the lotus, and I might not be able to leave this new land of enchantment so easily.

 In fact, all ALTs in their first and second years would have to make a choice as to whether to sign another contract for one more year, or leave the program and the country.   The decision would be due by February, which was now looming.  I would eventually have to make that choice, that in the beginning was so clearly a simple countdown to how many more months I would have to survive before I could leave.  And now after the fall travels and the Christmas visit from my son, I was thinking of the place as a "land of enchantment."  Clearly, new posts will reveal more about that important decision. 

PITA, MY CAT, VISITS JAPAN

Sometimes, life doesn't go as planned.  That is perhaps what I should have on my tombstone.  But that is the main reason that my lovable, snuggling cat named Pita came to Japan with Jason and Debbie at Christmas.  Since they were in college and allowed to have pets in their off campus housing, they  had no problem that first semester when I left.  But they were informed after the first semester that  renovations would require that  they move out of their current housing.  They could not find anything that allowed pets on short notice.

When I heard they wanted to bring him to me, I said yes, but then was left with flight arrangements, checking quarantines and all those legalities.  It turned out that it was much easier to bring in a cat than a dog, and Pita simply needed up to date shots, medical papers from a vet, and a small fee to fly in a cat carrier.  Pita was on his way.

Pita came to me to replace a cat we had had for many years.  Jason surprised me, and one morning I came downstairs to find a sweet little white kitten peeking out at me from under a chest.  Little did we know what a personality this kitten would develop.  We tried so many names, me leaning toward cutesy things like Blossom, and Jason and his friend Mike suggesting masculine names like Winston, Churchill, MacArthur and so on.  At some point Jason suggested Fairbanks and I was leaning toward that as a good choice.  We all wanted to have an Alaskan adventure one day. 

And then Jason said, "Or we could name him Pita, for pain in the a.. (butt)."  Well, this sweet little kitten had a way of waking us up in the most  unnerving ways.  He would come into our rooms about 5:30 a.m. and make noises.  In my room he would leap to the top of a 4 foot high chest and one by one knock off the textbooks I laid up there after studying.  Nothing like a 2 pound book hitting the floor at that hour to set your senses off into shock.  And as you all probably know, most cats are not going to listen when you say, yell, scream, "Stop that!" and he would get us up.  And so he was named Pita Fairbanks.  He was two when he came to Japan that winter.

I took the afternoon bus to Fukuoka to meet the kids and Pita when they came in via Northwest Airlines.  There's a train that comes straight to the train station in the city and I knew they could handle that on their own.  But I was worried not about the kids, but about how the cat had handled an overseas flight.  He was not exactly a world traveler, but he was a confident, friendly type, not the hyper type.  But 37,000 ft. of altitude might change that!

They were prepared with a soft-sided, but sturdy cat carrier, leash and halter,  and tranquilizers while I arrived at the train station with a pouch of food, 2 dishes for water and food, a small bag of litter, a large shoe box and some plastic bags.   We were awfully glad to see each other, especially me, but we quickly got over that and prepared to deal with a dazed or wild cat.  Instead I found out that they had all been upgraded to first class, including the cat!  And he had remained calm and quiet so they never even medicated him.  I am not sure I am over that fact yet.  (I am not a calm flier.)

The bus station had settled down for the evening when we were all uniting, so we walked about and found an extremely well-suited corner, with a dividing wall between it and the main waiting area.  It was dark and no one else but the 3 of us and the cat were remotely interested in it.  There were about 20 people on the other side of the wall in a well lit room with chairs.  Since we had no chairs, we spread out suitcases and Pita's dishes on the floor and sat down next to him where we gave him some space and got him out of the carrier.  He simply stared at us and sat quietly looking around, getting his bearings.  

When I tried to show him the food, he peered around and came and ate some.  Then he had some water.  Wow!  I could not have imagined he would have been so easy.  I  got the litter box ready for him, but he was not interested yet.  A lone traveler, an elderly Japanese man, wandered over.  I was very worried that at some point someone would report us and we might not be able to take the cat on the bus.  We signed up for the night bus, especially to be able to get him on in the dark!

As the elderly man wandered directly over to us in the dark, I braced myself for the worst.  But instead he bowed and smiled.  And with no English pointed to the cat, and looked questionably at me.  He mimed eating some food, and I said,   "We have some food," and showed him the dish.  He mimed a drink, and I showed him the water dish.  He gave a sigh of relief, bowed approvingly and wandered away.  It was the only questions we were asked about traveling with the cat.

Soon after that Pita became interested in his litter box and went over to give it a scratch.  I have mentioned in previous posts that in life, timing is everything.  At about the same moment, some official decided to open the wall behind us, as it was made of sliding doors, (fusuma).  I had not even noticed it wasn't a solid wall in the dark.  And there were the 20 or so people in their chairs, waiting for various overnight buses, and there we were with Pita, who was now sitting in his box and going to the bathroom.  He showed no embarrassment, however, that was left for we three humans, still laughing over the timing 20 years later.  Perhaps not many actually were paying enough attention to notice, or perhaps with our luggage scattered about they could not see Pita.  But he was now physically ready for the last phase of his voyage, the overnight bus from Fukuoka to Kagoshima.  

The bus ride was uneventful.  Overnight buses are set to arrive in the bustling morning hours, and we all slept peacefully when the bus pulled in to a rest area for the driver to rest as well to get the the timing right for a.m. arrival in Kagoshima.  We only had to get on a local bus to get to our apartment and get settled.

Pita took no time at all getting settled.  He sniffed everything out thoroughly, found the warmest spot which happened to be under the kotatsu and went to sleep.  Pita would stay with me for 8 months, entertain my friends from around the world, and be a furry goodwill ambassador to the Japanese friends and students who came to visit my apartment until I took him back to Jason and Debbie in the summer.  He was such a good buddy to have and hug through my first cold winter in Japan.  And he will reappear in some of my future posts.

This was the most comfortable chair in my living room, a tatami perfect chair that someone put out on the curb to throw away.  Nancy and I had seen it when we drove by, and she quickly backed up.  We loaded it in her car and took it to my place.  One woman's reject is another woman's tres chic decor.

This is a great photo to explain how a kotatsu works, and Pita is the perfect model to pose for it.  The soft electric heat is held in by a quilted coverlet, which has a table top placed over it, so that the family can gather around the table, seated on the floor, and warm their legs under the table while they eat.  They are wonderfully cozy.

Again, do leave comments for me and let me know if you are a frequent reader, or a first time reader to my blog.  Have a good spring season!

HINA MATSURI - DOLL'S FESTIVAL FOR GIRLS' DAY

Every year the Japanese celebrate Hina Matsuri,  or the Festival of Dolls.  This holiday is a time to be thankful for daughters born into the families and wish and pray those girls will have happy and successful lives.  A similar day is held on May 5 every year for sons, although it is referred to as Children's Day.

Traditionally, grandparents or parents purchase a display of dolls that are stored away until about 2 weeks before Hina Matsuri, and then the display is set up to be enjoyed by the daughters and the families.  The dolls are not toys and can be very costly depending on the size and number of pieces, and, of course, the quality of the display.  

The pieces always start with the emperor and empress on a tier, or platform.  Lower tiers, a few or several, include those people and items in every day life - courtiers, ministers, servants and the furniture used in their lives.  The costumes and accessories are all very beautiful and ornate. 

Both of these photos are of Hina Matsuri desktop ornaments purchased in the Osaka area in the last few years.

The very lovely wife of my office superintendent asked Nancy and me to come to her house for lunch on Girls' Day.  She said she would pull out the display she had had as a little girl and let us see it.  It seemed she didn't bother to bring it out every year, so by treating us to this special occasion she would also find a reason to enjoy it herself.  

We had no idea what to expect.  First we had to drive into the city and find her house.  Fortunately by this time Nancy had purchased a car and off we went, with me as navigator.   We arrived without incident and were greeted by a smiling hostess.

We had the most enjoyable time.  Mrs. Fujita prepared a very special lunch, temaki zushi, a selection of various choices of fish and shrimp and vegetables that we could add to rice and wrap with seaweed for handmade sushi rolls.

Our hostess, Mrs. Fujita, prepared wonderful temaki zushi, choices for us to roll our own favorites into large sheets of nori and sushi rice.  Note the quilt covered kotatsu table that has soft electric heat underneath to warm our legs.

We ate so casually and yet so contentedly, on the floor at her kotatsu table and seated comfortably on cushions.  The three of us were busy eating and chatting away, exchanging  a bit of info about our homes and families in the US and listening to her talk about Kagoshima.  We spent the afternoon admiring not only her doll display but her watercolors that she painted herself.  She was a very talented person, and she was also so happy that we had come to join her for the afternoon.

Nancy and Mrs. Fujita sit Seiza style  (sitting on your folded knees is considered more formal) in front of the full Hina Matsuri that was given to Mrs. Fujita when she was a little girl.

 

The Emperor and the Empress are on the top tier.

I am so happy Mrs. Fujita wanted to share Girls' Day with us.

Nancy playing with the Fujitas' little dog in front of the bottom tiers of the Hina Matsuri.  This also illustrates the tatami on the floors (woven mats) and the shoji screens, or squares on the sliding screens to close off rooms for privacy and also to keep the rooms warm or cool depending on the season.

It was  an especially good afternoon for me, because it was the beginning of a happy and solid friendship that led to more time that Mrs. Fujita and I spent together. She became someone who wanted to share the art of sumi-e, or charcoal/ink painting and the other arts like tea ceremony and ikebana,  or flower arranging.  

We would spend more time in the next couple of years visiting various cultural events.  In a way, this had been the best Girls' Day ever, spent with girlfriends!

YAMATO NADESHIKO

Each of the schools where I taught had different appeals, and each had pros and cons.  There were things I liked and sometimes did not like so much.  Some were very strict with the students, some were obsessed with better grades and results on tests for college.  Some were visibly more bright, cheerful, while some seemed more on edge.  It seemed the entire building took on the personalities of both teachers and students.  Some were physically cold, or old and not very clean.   Some were more accessible or had prettier surroundings.  Some had views of the sea or bamboo forests, or lovely grounds.

For the teachers there were even more differences, yet I had to find ways to work with each one.  Some of the teachers wanted to ignore me and find reasons they could not take me to class with them.  Most of those reasons were valid, due to testing or demands that meant they not take time out for distractions of actually using a lot of oral English in the classroom.  Many teachers were not  comfortable speaking my language in the classroom, because the students might notice they did not speak as naturally if compared to me.

But many of the teachers realized that was exactly the reason I was there,  to utilize my easily flowing word structure with so little accent, speaking slowly and in easy, beginners' vocabulary so that when the students understood, they gained confidence.  Once they heard something they could understand, it was a game changer.  These teachers found ways to have me make tapes to use when I was not there, to work on a specific lesson plan, to have students ask their own questions.  But in the end, this was up to the individual teacher.

One teacher had heavy demands placed on him and he was very thorough, serious and, pretty much ignored me though we sat side by side in the teacher's room.  He pored over his books and papers and did not speak to me. 

 On the other side sat a teacher who looked forward to my days there, shared his novels in English for me to read, and always looked for things to chat about, improving his English and his understanding of my background, where I lived and what I might eat for holiday or a normal meal during the day.  He would tell me stories about his childhood or his family.  One day at lunch time he pulled out his Obento, a boxed lunch his wife had made for him.  He proudly explained his wife got up at 5:30 to make his lunch and lunches for their children as well.

Through one of the books he had given me to read, I learned they strove to include foods from both yama and umi, the mountain and the  sea.  This meant vegetables and meat from the land, and seafood and seaweed from the sea.  The teacher's Obento was a masterpiece.  A shrimp, half a hard boiled egg, a couple of pieces of fried chicken or pork, some green seaweed with sesame seed sprinkled on it, a couple of pieces of pickled daikon radish, a piece of mushroom, a slice of pear, a rice ball wrapped in nori, seaweed, and, finally, some slices of apple cut to look like a rabbit.  It was a piece of art, no doubt, and I gave it the admiration it deserved.  Then with a bit of relish, because at this point I knew this kind man had a great sense of humor after talking with him for weeks and sitting next to him, I did my show and tell with my lunch.  "See, this is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a container with some chips and a banana.  And it took me two minutes to make it and throw it in the bag."  The lessons in culture were non-stop, and we never had to look very far.

Our teacher's room had some kerosene heaters, no central heat.  The rooms were unheated for the students.  Nice most of the year, but not nice in winter when it could get cold.  This area grew oranges, so it was Florida like, but we know that Florida can get cold.  Anyway, often throughout the winter, one of the teachers who had a large garden would bring in freshly dug potatoes and boil them on the top of the heater, then share them with everyone.  They were wonderful freshly boiled and salted, and, perhaps, for me a taste of home.  Quite a treat because they were also hot.  If it was cold enough to cook the potatoes, it was cold enough for me to run to put hot green tea in my ceramic cup and hold it, not so much to drink, but to warm my hands.  Green tea, hot water and tea pots were available in every office and teacher's room for all of us to help ourselves.  

I really liked the teachers in this office at Kaseda High School.  I also worked with two young teachers, a man and a woman.  The woman had excellent English, headed up the English Club and was thinking about eventually getting married.  She was kind and humorous, and loved to laugh at American style humor.  

The young man often took me out to lunch with him on Thursdays, when he had a free period.  We almost always went to his favorite place where he would order the daily special.  It was a great little hole in the wall with good food and a balanced meal set called teishoku in Japanese.  It contained miso soup, rice, veggie and meat or fish with coffee or tea.  Here we would talk pretty freely.  He was very tough in his classroom, but very good looking, and he relaxed when he left school.  Both of these teachers sat across from me.  We could all hear what any of the others said.  

One more teacher had retired but was filling in for someone, or because there was a shortage of English teachers.  He was over 60 and in great shape, running 5Ks and hiking up mountains.  This was my favorite group of teachers, and I got to know them the best because it was my base school where I spent most of my working days.

But to get back to the teacher who didn't speak to me.  Eventually, I wore him down.  I always included him in conversations, even if he looked busy.  I asked him short questions.  He responded, just barely.  He did not take me into his classrooms.  He was one tough nut.  But finally he did start talking a little, ever so slowly opening up about why he hadn't been talking.  He said he thought it was a waste of time, because the teacher before had not been happy.  She  sat  and read books the whole time she was there.  Soon, I found his English to be excellent and natural.  He'd lived in Britain for a year and studied there.  It all came together, and, soon he even laughed on occasion, and asked me questions about life in the States.  

Occasionally, we joked or teased.  One time just before his class was starting, after we had talked for a good 30 minutes, he asked me if I had heard of Yamato Nadeshiko.  He said this was the old term for the PERFECT Japanese woman.   Yamato is an old word for Japan and nadeshiko is a carnation.   He told me the perfect Japanese woman would be thin, agile, able to bend gracefully as the carnation would bend in the wind.  But like the carnation, she was strong, and while able to sway so gracefully, would not break. 

I was enjoying the story and the conversation, when the bell rang for class.  The teacher hurried to take his books and when he got around the aisle, standing behind the young teachers, he threw a question back at me, so they could all hear.  "Minch Sensei, do you know why you cannot be Yamato nadeshiko?"  "Because you talk too much!"  Well, I was the first to start laughing out loud, and then was joined by all the other English teachers.  Then all the other teachers in the room, a good 35 or so, wanted to know what had happened.  There was a brief explanation in Japanese, and soon there was a new round of laughter.

In the workplace, when you are with friends, sharing laughter is so important.  I felt like a real member of the group when all could laugh at the joke, and I knew it was all in good fun, as well as true.  I could not be Yamato nadeshiko, but I remember this story fondly and still admire the image of a carnation swaying in the wind.