I think I’m turning Japanese

Mono no aware 物の哀れ, literally, the pathos of things, a sensitivity of ephemera; Japanese term used to describe the awareness of mujo or the transience of things and a bittersweet sadness at their passing.

Mom, click on the link below with the mouse to see photos.
TakayamaAfter Tokyo, I headed to the Japanese Alps in hopes of seeing some of Japan’s famous nature and escaping the unbearable Tokyo heat. It was also my first opportunity to ride one of Japan’s famous trains. The train to Takayama isn’t the bullet train, but it’s still far nicer than any Amtrak I’ve taken. But, as mentioned before, I couldn’t believe it lacked wireless.
The Japanese Alps were beautiful, although honestly, they’re not that different from Europe’s Alps. They attract skiers in the winter and lots of hikers in the summer. I was surprised by how many hikers there were, and surprised that at least half of the hikers were in their 50s and 60s. They’re also super decked out in outdoor gear. Everyone seemed to have the latest in camping gear and were overprepared, even sporting gaitors despite the fact that there was no snow.

I, on the other hand, was underprepared. I had brought warm clothes and a tarp for hiking Mt. Fuji, but hadn’t planned on camping out in the alps. Fortunately, there are mountain huts and lodges, like in Europe, so I just planned on staying at one of them. I made a reservation at one, but when the bus from the Takayama train station dropped me off at the alps, there were a few hours of daylight left, and I decided to hike though the valley to a lodge a few miles away. I joined a lovely couple as a hiked, he was a Canadian in the oil business, she was an Indian attorney, they met and currently lived in Dubai, and they had plenty of interesting travel stories and made perfect hiking companions. They were very well prepared and planned on spending several days hiking and camping. When we finally arrived at the lodge where I planned to stay, we were greeted by an attractive, stately looking lodge furnished with antiques. But when I tried to book a room, they were all filled. It was getting dark so I asked if I could rent a tent for the night. They wanted $90 for a tent for one night. I tried to negotiate, but this just seemed to irritate the clerk even more. There was no way anyone was going to try and rent that tent that night, and there was no way I was paying that much to rent a tent for one night. “That’s crazy” I said, and with those words came the first and only time I managed to rile up a local. “not crazy! Not crazy!” The clerk snapped. I’m not sure if something related to mental illness and its heavy stigma triggered the outburst, but i apologized repeatedly. But it WAS crazy he wouldn’t negotiate, and I can be stubborn too. So I paid him $5 for a campsite and intended to sleep under the stars on my mat (despite the lightening in the distance.) I also had planned on eating at the lodge, but they wouldn’t let me since I was only camping. It was definitely my fault for not making a reservation at this lodge, but there was a kitchen right there serving hot food, and it seemed ridiculous not to allow me to purchase some food. (I learned other lodges in the area did not have this policy of barring campers from ordering food from the kitchen.) I finally managed to get an instant pack of ramen noodles from the kitchen, and the Dubai couple was generous enough to cook it on their camping stove for me. Needless to say I was mortified at the situation I got myself in, but this stuff just happens when you travel, and fortunately there are more good guys than bad guys out there to help out.
It was a cold night on my tarp, even with my Mt. Fuji clothing andf a borrowed jacket. Still, I slept well enough, and the next day I went hiking with my new friends for most of the day. Most of the other hikers were Japanese, and they bowed slightly and greeted us with “konichiwa” as we passed. I was clearly not prepared for a few days out there, so at sunset I took the bus back down to Takayama. Again, I lacked any lodging reservations, but I tried my luck at a Buddhist Temple that took in travelers. They had a Japanese room (futon bedding on the floor, rice paper doors, a pretty garden, and a special mediation room. This was the first of many, many, many temples I would soon see. IN fact I had been warned that it would be easy to be “templed to death” in Japan. (so true.) Some of the temples were interactive encouraging you to drop a coin, clap your hands and make a wish, or touch a statue. My favorite was a statue of a bull that if you touched would take on your burdens.The temple that I stayed at in Takayama had a cleansing mediation to teach appreciation for light and sight. I descended down a stairwell into the darkest hallway I’ve ever entered in my life. I felt the hallway narrow, and I couldn’t detect so much as a photon, just pure blackness all around and a sense of claustrophobia. Just as I was about to turn around and possibly scream, I found the lock that you were supposed to find and soon made my way out.

The next day in Takayama, I wandered around a long walk filled with many, many temples, and then biked around the town. Takayama is a bit touristy, but all the tourist shops serve local foods and pass out samples and I enjoyed trying the different sweets and meat skewers. The area is especially famous for its beef. Up until now, I must confess I was actually disappointed in Japanese food. It was good, but honestly, it wasn’t that different from sushi or noodles I’ve had in New York or California. But Japanese beef is another story. I had been warned that eating beef in Japan pretty much ruins you for beef elsewhere, and I hate to say that it’s true. The local Hida and Kobe beef are simply amazing and unlike anything that can be obtained in the U.S.
Takayama and the alps are also famous their onsen (hot springs) which are probably heavenly in the fall and winter but seemed hellish in August. So sadly I missed out on the outdoor onsen experience. Still, Takayama was a welcome respite from the city and I was ready to head to Kyoto.

Kyoto

I must confess that until I came to Kyoto, I wasn’t really feeling Japan. The food wasn’t very different from Japanese food I had elsewhere, Tokyo is cool but it’s not terribly different from New York or any other big city, (an American teaching in Japan told me Tokyo is Japan like Tijuana is Mexico.) Kyoto is my kind of city. It has posh restaurants, hip neighborhoods, mixed in with working and middle class homes. It had hypermodern architecture, traditional architecture, and ancient temples literally everywhere throughout the city. I had a wonderful wandering through old temples, hanging out in the hip Gojin area, biking along the river, and shopping at the market. I stayed at a tiny ryoken which are kinda like Japanese B&Bs. An absolutely adorable Japanese grandmotherly type woman ran the place I stayed at. It was a very old home and I stayed in a small room with the special bamboo mats, futon bedding on the floor, a Japanese style bath, Japanese robe and a view of the Tokyo tower from the window. I couldn’t have been happier. By now I was really liking Japan which brings me back to my previous point about appreciating Japan is more about appreciating the subtle nuances and beauty in the architecture, in the presentation of the food, in the fabric of the kimonos. Its this simple elegance that has inspired so many artists, architects and even the deisgn of the ipod. I spoke with an ex-pat who lived in Japan for several months, and he confirmed my impression. He said that after living there he just felt more relaxed and peaceful since people and the city just seem to flow. Even after just 10 days in Japan I felt that sense of zen relaxation and peacefulness.

I’m glad I saw Japan, but I felt a little sad that I really only skimmed the surface. I’ve been to other cities and countries for short trips, but still felt like I could get a good feel for a place after just a few days. I don’t feel that way at all about Japan. The changing of seasons is extremely important in Japan, and I’m a little sad that, at least for now, I can’t experience an onsen in winter or cherry blossoms in spring. Part of the Japanese love for cherry blossoms’ fleeting bloom comes from the “mono non aware” aesthetic which finds sadness and happiness in the ephemeral nature of beauty. And so, as I type this on a plane that just whisked me away from Tokyo, I’m trying to appreciate the beauty of too short trip to Japan.

Japan

September 6, 2010. Uncategorized.