Inuyama Castle

Inuyama Castle, located in Inuyama City in Aichi Prefecture, is said to be the oldest original castle in Japan. Many other castles are actually reconstructions.

Since it was Golden Week at the time of our visit, there were a clutch of food stalls just before the path up to the entrance gate. One of the booths belonged to Loreley Brewery. We bought two real German sausages (no wieners here!) and two locally-brewed beers. We also picked up a flyer for their all-you-can-eat Golden Week buffet. More on that later.

We got tickets, joined the line and went round the castle. You need to buy your ticket at the booth before you join the line. The line leads directly to the entrance, not a place to buy tickets. The only information I saw about this was in written Japanese, so take care because the line is a long one. All the original castles I’ve visited have had very steep staircases inside, so dress appropriately. Once you’ve made it to the top, you can walk around the turret area for a good view of the local area and the river Kiso.

Inuyama Castle

Our ticket also allowed us entrance to two much smaller museums just a short walk away from the castle. One was mainly about the Inuyama Festival and the other was dedicated to terrifying haunted dolls known as karakuri. From there, we walked to Inuyama Station and caught a bus at the east exit (on the far side of the station) to Meiji Mura (The more detailed Japanese site can be found here).

Meiji Mura is Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum’s lesser-known big sister. Established in 1965, the grounds contain a wider range of buildings over a square kilometre of land. In fact, there is a tram network within Meiji Mura to get you around. You can either pay for individual tickets or buy an all-day pass when you buy your entrance ticket.

There are some great opportunities for macro photography, particularly at places like Dr. Shimizu’s office. You can see a few of ones I took below. Just like any picture in this blog post, you can get a larger version by clicking on them.

One thing you shouldn’t miss is the night maze, although there may be a wait. For five minutes, you walk around a maze in pitch blackness. There are a few surprises, mind you, although no ghosts.

Nearby is a (free) brick maze. I enjoyed it, although I almost collided with a Japanese man who was racing his kid (and I racing my partner). We screamed ‘gomen!’ at each other and kept going, because mazes are Serious Business. For the record, I won.

 

Inuyama Castle Inuyama Castle

Inuyama Castle Inuyama Castle Karakuri Doll

THIS KARAKURI DOLL WILL EAT US ALL Lanterns on a festival float

 

We had mango kakigoori (shaved ice) outside Lafcadio Hearn’s summer house. It was made with one of those old-fashioned ice-shavers that cut up blocks of ice into fine snow. They layered the syrup too, resulting in the best kakigoori ever.

 

St. John's Church (Kyoto, 1907) Inside Dr. Shimizu's Office (Nagano, 1897) Inside Dr. Shimizu's Office (Nagano, 1897)

Meiji Mura Tram Japan Red Cross Society Central Hospital (Tokyo, 1890) Japan Red Cross Society Central Hospital (Tokyo, 1890)

Japan National Railways Shinbashi Factory (Tokyo, 1868) Main Gate of Kanazawa Prison (Ishikawa, 1907)

Japan National Railways Shinbashi Factory (Tokyo, 1868) St. Francis Xavier's Cathedral (Kyoto, 1890).

 

We stayed right up until the last minute and caught the only bus available, which took us to back to Inuyama Station. From there, we went to Haguro Station, giving us a ten minute walk to the brewery. If you want to go too, I hope you have a proper map instead of the bizarre geometric one Loreley use for advertising.

Inside we got a craft beer sampler set and access to a large buffet including sushi, shumai, cake and roast beef. It was fantastic (particularly the beef), but the highlight was the beer. Our sampler set consisted of three types of beer from Loreley Brewery next door, each a different shade and texture.

BEEEEEEEEEER!

It’s difficult to believe all these photographs were taken in a single day. However, you might want to break it up a little and spend longer at Meiji Mura.

Itabashi Hanabi Taikai

Sumida River Fireworks Festival sucks! Yes, the most famous summer fireworks festival in Japan, officially known as Sumidagawa Hanabi Taikai, is crap. There are three key reasons why:

 

(1) You have to camp out for weeks in the hope of seeing anything. All the best places fill up as the event gets closer. You won’t find anywhere comfortable to stand, let alone sit, no matter how early you show up on the day. My memory of the festival was of standing behind a wire fence on a small patch of grass slightly smaller than the area covered by the soles of my feet.

(2) The ‘boom factor’ is a lie. The fireworks go off in two different places, meaning the number is effectively halved. That makes the number you can actually see around the same as less well-attended displays. There are, however, a few choice spots where you can see both locations. For that, you’ll need to camp out for weeks.

(3) Crowds. Once the display is over, everyone heads to Asakusa Station. That’s 948,000 people all heading in the same direction. Eating is also a big part of festivals, so the usually scenic Asakusa streets are lined with trash.

 

Thankfully, there are better firework displays, like Itabashi Hanabi Taikai (いたばし花火大会). My friends arrived in the early afternoon and spread out their blue sheet. We drank and ate red velvet cake while dragonflies danced around us until it got dark.

Another great festival is The 43rd Katsushika Nouryou Hanabi Taikai (第43回葛飾納涼花火大会). All day and into the evening, giant red dragonflies float above the grass, making it look like a section of one of those digital art posters you had in college where all the dolphins are flying into space on rainbows.

 

Itabashi Hanabi Taikai

 

What you need:

A blue plastic sheet. Hell yeah it has to be blue! Don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules. This is used not so much as a place to sit, but more of a way to mark your territory.
Plastic bags. To put your rubbish in. You’ll need more than one.
Beer. Don’t buy it from the convenience store near the display since they’ll be full of people doing the exact same thing. If it has to be ice-cold, you can buy it from a vendor (limited selection), but you’ll still want more than one over the course of the display. Buy those in advance.
Wet wipes. Eating buttered jacket potatoes with chopsticks is tough. Most festival food is fairly greasy too.
No food. Never bring food. There are plenty of food stalls selling food and even standard fare like corn-on-the-cob and jacket potatoes have a Japanese twist to them. You’ll have to queue for these too, but it’s worth it.

 

There are a number of summer firework festivals and almost all of these are better than Sumidagawa. For a fairly comprehensive free listing, pick up Lawson’s Ticket magazine from Lawson’s convenience store. However, even if you aren’t in Tokyo (or, perhaps, especially if you’re not in Tokyo), there should be plenty of local firework displays around you. Have fun!

This was a response to a call for submissions to the June 2010 Japan Blog Matsuri on “Hot Fun In the Summertime!” Thank you to Locohama for hosting.

Godaidou

A samurai sat in a plastic chair and held up a sign outside Marine Gate Shiogama. The helmet shape and eyepatch identified him as Date Masamune (伊達 政宗), a local hero.

We were there to catch a boat to Matsushima, an area of Miyagi prefecture known for being one of the three views of Japan (Nihon Sankei). Inside the marina, there were Tanabata decorations hanging down from the ceiling. Tanabata falls on July 7th and the festival in Sendai is particularly well-known. This was Winter Tanabata.

Also inside was a tuna auction and a stage for a talk show about tuna that would take place later that day.

Once on the boat, I saw a box of limited edition zunda Kit Kats, only sold in the Touhoku area (Akita, Aomori, Fukushima, Iwate, Miyagi and Yamagata prefectures). I bought some and, after I handed over my money and received my Kit Kats, I asked what ‘zunda’ was. Apparently it’s chopped edamame (baby soybeans), usually served sweetened and with mochi.

As we were setting off, the woman who was behind the till walked around selling ebi senbei (prawn crackers) for the seagulls, which was actually a popular brand from the convenience store. No wonder the birds had been gathering round the boat. We didn’t buy any, but went outside to watch.

Two kids and their parents also came out soon after and offered us some of their seagull food. It started snowing, but the seagulls kept coming. Every so often, the kids would shove more ebi senbei into our hands. As you can see, I got some amazing shots of the birds in flight.

It got colder and the snow grew more intense. The sky became dark and the rocks around us got whiter as the snow fell. The seagulls shrieked and snatched crackers from the air. All the while, we were surrounded by pine-covered islands officially declared to be one of the three most beautiful sights in Japan.

 

Seagulls in Matsushima Seagulls in Matsushima

On the way to Matsushima by boat On the way to Matsushima by boat On the way to Matsushima by boat
Click to enlarge

 

Just before we docked in Matsushima Marina, I remembered I had the zunda Kit Kats. I thanked the parents of the two boys and checked if it was okay for them to have chocolate. Great family and I hope their kids like edamame.

 

Coming in to Matsushima Bay Coming in to Matsushima Bay Coming in to Matsushima Bay
Click to enlarge

 

We were drawn to a traditional house near the marina, named Kanrantei (観瀾亭). Kanrantei was originally built in Kyoto and then moved by Date Masamune’s son in the Momoyama era because they liked Matsushima better. Since Date Masamune was feudal lord of Sendai, the prefectural capital of Miyagi, he got one of the best spots on the island for watching moonlight sparkle on the water.

After taking a look around the museum, you can have green tea and a traditional snack while looking out at the bay. I had green tea and zunda. The lady at the counter asked if I’d had it before and tried to talk me out of it. I had to be a little more insistent than anyone should have to be when trying to give someone money. Eventually she relented and I got my zunda. It was sweeter than I expected, but definitely worthwhile. I drank my tea from a lacquer bowl watching the sunlight and snow hit the waves, just as Date Masamune might have done over 360 years ago.

 

Kanrantei Museum Green tea and zunda
Click to enlarge

 

Godaidou (see main picture) stands nearby and had far more visitors. A small red bridge connects it to the mainland.

 

Godaidou
Click to enlarge

 

Outside, a woman holding a menu all-but insisted we visit her restaurant. There, we had amazing kaki soba (oysters and noodles). We made the mistake of ordering two ‘jizake’ (local sake). Fooled by Tokyo prices, we could never have expected two medium-sized bottles would arrive at our table.

 

Kaki soba
Click to enlarge

 

Afterwards we crossed the Fukuura Bridge to the island of the same name. Just off from the main paths you’ll find thick ropes tied to posts that will allow you to climb down to the deserted beaches safely. I presume they’re deserted according to the season; Matsushima isn’t crowded, but the weather varied rapidly between snow and sunshine so that might have been why. Nevertheless, no one else made the trip down onto the sand.

 

Fukuura Island Fukuura Island

Fukuurajima Fukuurajima
Click to enlarge

 

If you’re going on a trip to Japan, you must include Matsushima (and Sendai) on your itinerary. Catch a boat from Hon Shiogama Station and don’t forget to check out Gundam Shot Bar Zion in Sendai while you’re there too.

Design Festa: Most awesome thing you've ever seen

While the Kuroshitsuji musical has the best-dressed audience, Design Festa attendees are the most original. A number of them were wearing their original creations, many of them using kimono fabric.

I arrived at 10:30am at the Big Sight knowing that it opened at around 11:00am. With my experience attending Comiket and the Tokyo International Anime Fair, I figured that that would get me inside the quickest. I needn’t have worried, since there was only a tiny queue. Many of the booth staff were still setting up at that time as well, so it wasn’t like I missed anything. You might as well arrive at a little past opening.

There was a huge variety of Stuff available to buy. At first glance, grandma-style Victoriana seemed to outstrip the goth Victoriana, but the latter was still there. One shop specialised in black gothic dresses with straps featuring crucified bunny rabbits.

I was amazed at the number of satirical T-shirts featuring un-PC depictions of Kim Jong-Il and other political figures, which I really don’t see much in Japan. There were torn shirts made from non-torn shirts, ordinary-looking jeans and patched together animal headpieces. I also saw a cool rabbit gasmark; but wear it once and you’re awesome, wear it twice and you’re that guy with the rabbit gasmask. There were also bars of home-made soap for sale, which intrigued me. I looked into it once and found I’d have to look for a lye (sodium hydroxide) supplier in Japan. That couldn’t be easy.

In the end, I bought two postcards by Akito, who seems to be inspired by H. R. Giger and anime. I would have loved to be able to buy artbooks from any of the booths or, even better, a collection from a selection of booths (yes, I realise that’s impossible). I don’t have anywhere to put the stuff on sale, or it’s not something I would wear or use, but it was so awesome I wanted to keep it to look at anyway. Photographs for that end (which are fine at most booths) seem mean-spirited.

 

Click on any of the photographs to enlarge.

 

Live painting area:

 

Design Festa: Live Painting Area Design Festa: Live Painting Area

 

Booths:

(My friends declared the giant plant-thing to be ‘kawaii’ and ‘cute’. What do you think?)

 

Design Festa: Cute or Not? Design Festa: Model City

 

Dolls:

 

Design Festa: Dolls Design Festa: Giant Ballerina Doll

 

More Booths:

(One of the booths specialised in making plastic keyrings with everyday objects subjected to a type of Japanese bondage called ‘kinbaku’. I thought this was awesome, but not everyone agreed!)

 

Design Festa: Onigiri Kinbaku Design Festa: University Students' Booth

 

There were two stages. One was bigger, indoors and had more mainstream acts. The other was outdoors, tending towards goth/punk/indie and was like a tiny Glastonbury festival. This was what kept me at Design Festa from the very start until closing. The atmosphere was amazing. The bar next to the stage had the worst beer I’ve ever had, while the French-style hotdog stand tasted great and used real sausages.

Bands:

(Jack and Sally, plus two of Kojinshugi Gekijo.)

 

Design Festa: Jack and Sally Design Festa: Kojinshugi Gekijo Design Festa: Kojinshugi Gekijo

 

Psydoll, one of my favourites:

 

Design Festa: Psydoll Design Festa: Psydoll Design Festa: Psydoll

 

N.S.D.P, who seemed to have lots of female fans:

 

Design Festa: N.S.D.P. Design Festa: N.S.D.P. Design Festa: N.S.D.P.

 

ENIGMATIC DRIVE did alt. jazz. I wouldn’t have said jazz was really my thing, but it was a great feeling at the end of the day to hear those notes echo into the sky as it got darker.

 

Design Festa: ENIGMATIC DRIVE

 

More than anything, I was left with a strong desire to create something or design something or just… DO something. Well at least I have a blog, I guess.

Butterfly resting on the ruins of Oda Nobunaga's palace.

This photo was taken in Gifu Prefecture at the base of Mt. Kinka (金崋山・きんかざん), where you can also find Gifu Castle. The butterfly is resting on the ruins of Oda Nobunaga’s mansion (織田信長公居館跡・おだのぶながこうきょかんあと).

A florist shop dating from 1927.

For every entry in the JSOC Blog Matsuri on the topic of secret Japan, there will be someone to claim that they’ve known about whatever is being discussed for years. Of course they they’ve always known about the udon shop inside the crater of Mt Fuji that’s guarded by a six-headed tanuki. Which is simply not true — ask any Japanese person where the six-headed tanuki can be found and they’ll refuse to answer, backing away slowly. That’s how secret it is.

So what qualifies Edo Tokyo Tatemonoen (Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum) to be described as a part of ‘secret Japan’? Well, it’s considered far enough away from the train stations surrounding it, all of which are outside the sacred Yamanote ring of Tokyo, that even the official website suggests you catch a bus. And let’s face it, a guidebook that covers Harajuku, Roppongi and Koganei isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Inside the park, you’ll find historic buildings that have been deconstructed and rebuilt in order to preserve them. These range from a traditional farm house from the end of the Edo Era (1603 – 1868) to modern residences from the 1940s. Honestly, nothing prepares you for the feeling of being a thousand miles from “home” (or something like it) and realizing your grandmother used that kind of washing machine.

My favourite area is the street from very early in the Showa Era (1926 – 1989), with a florist, a soy sauce merchant, a bar and many other shops. The stationers is lined with calligraphy brushes and the florists is decorated in modern white tiles and filled with plastic flowers. All the shop interiors have been recreated and it’s a great opportunity to take a few photographs. At the end nearest to the entrance there’s a stand selling 2010-style takoyaki and icecream, so you can sit outdoors and take in the view for a while. You can also go into an udon restaurant which sells real udon for 600 yen. No tanuki, six-headed or otherwise, need be harmed.

 

Detail from a wooden panel in one of the houses.
Fire watchtower which original stood in Ueno. But wait! There's nature too! These are peach blossoms.

 

The details:

Entry won’t cost more than 400 yen and there are discounts if you’re over 65 or studying at university.

April to September, open from 9.30am to 5.30pm.
October to March, open from 9.30am to 4.30pm
The park is closed on Mondays and over the New Year holidays.

To get there, go to Musashi Koganei, Higashi Koganei or Hana Koganei and then catch a bus (although I recommend you walk – it’s only about 1.1 km from Hana Koganei).

MAP

Rules: Photography is forbidden in the indoor museum, the Mitsui Hachirouemon storehouse and in the Mitsui family chapel on the second floor. You can’t sketch or use tripods inside buildings or where you might cause a disturbance.

Statue at a local shrine

A post on What Japan Thinks dared to ask whether cherry blossoms are overrated.

My memory of cherry blossom in England is quite different from those created in Japan. I remember being in St. James Park and my parents asking me if the tree next to us was sakura, as they knew I was “into Japanese culture” (as we anime fans like to put it). It had the distinctive pale pink petals, but it didn’t seem special.

Fast-forward to one of my first trips to Japan, which coincided with spring. I was fascinated by the various photoshoots for advertisements that were going on around Ueno Park, with the photographers holding up big silver foil plates to reflect the light. More importantly, they were gathering up the petals so they could scatter them over the model and in front of the lens. Yes, I was fascinated by the lies being created as I watched. The blossoms didn’t make a big impact though.

Spring in Japan has a place usually occupied by summer in Western countries which follow the September-August school year. For many of us who attended school in these countries, long summer days are linked to nostalgia, saying goodbye to friends and growing up. In Japan, where the school year runs from April to March, the memories of ‘our last time together’ are centred around the beginning of spring. The fleeting nature of the blossoms combines with the bittersweet memories of school entrance and graduation ceremonies.

Sakura are a timebomb. All this time you’ve been walking past a perfectly nondescript tree then — suddenly — they explode into white-pink fluffiness. The sheer volume of petals changes the scenery entirely and makes Japan look like a new world. That brings us to why cherry blossom in Japan is better than in England. It’s all in the planning. Throughout the year, Japanese streets are lined with millions of ordinary-looking trees just waiting to hulk out and become something extraordinary. The effect of these trees en masse, unlike the handful of trees back in England, is amazing.

You might be able to tell what side of the argument I come down by now. There is certainly a dark side to cherry blossoms which comes in the form of hanami (holding a party underneath the trees). This often involves compulsory drinking, dealing with crowds and piles of rubbish, but should be considered separately from the beauty of sakura. Have a look at some more of my photos below (click to enlarge) or check out some blog posts I liked on the subject.

 

Blog posts:
Flower Power Hanami-Style at JapaneseCultureGoNow! (A more pop culture take on cherry blossoms)
Hanami in Yokohama at Going Loco in Yokohama (Cherry blossom amidst European-style architecture in Yokohama)
Inokashira Creepy at A Canadian’s Adventures in Tokyo (Cherry blossom lit up at night)

 

Ueno Park cherry blossom Ueno Park cherry blossom
Ueno Park cherry blossom  Inokashira Park cherry blossom at night

 

Sakura in Inokashira Park
Click to enlarge

 

Ah, sakura season. You cross a bridge at twilight and pause halfway to see trees heaving with cherry blossoms trailing their branches in the water from beside the riverbank. Breathing in the night air, you quietly take a picture, marvelling at how lucky you were to chance upon such a night view…

Like hell it’s like that! No, it’s all piles of trash and people spreading their blue tarpaulins all over the park and impatient photographers tying to get the best shot.

When I took two of the photos below, I was surrounded by people with all kinds of camera, from basic to pro. Everyone had their finger on the button, waiting for the staff from the boathouse to row out to the centre of the lake and bring in two kids in a pedal-boat who’d lost track of time. You see, just ten minutes before, the entire area in Inokashira Park (Kichijouji) was filled with people riding paddle-powered plastic ducks around.

The minute they got those kids far enough out of the frame, all the cameras went off and we could take home our picture-perfect photo of a quiet lake in Japan, surrounded by sakura.

 

Sakura close up Sakura close up
Sakura close up Sakura close up
A streetlamp surrounded by sakura A shrine surrounded by sakura A shrine surrounded by sakura
A lake surrounded by sakura A shrine surrounded by sakura
A lake surrounded by sakura A shrine surrounded by sakura
Click to enlarge

 

The cherry blossom forecasts say that the sakura will be in full bloom on April 3rd (Saturday). You might also enjoy my post on plum blossoms (and cultists), which have already bloomed this year.

Tengu at Mt. Takao

 

It was a day early in spring, with a cloudless sky. Plum trees in full bloom and graves dotted the perimeter of a car park at the base of the mountain. A crowd gathered around a fenced-in area which contained a massive pile of cedar branches, cauldrons of boiling water tended by yamabushi and a large black statue surrounded by stylised red flames.

The Fire-walking Festival (Hi-Watari Matsuri) is held once a year, on the second Sunday in March, at the base of Mt. Takao in Tokyo. Mt Takao’s principle deity, Iizuna Daigongen, is invoked to relieve the world’s suffering. He is often depicted as a tengu (see photo above) and the temple near the top of the mountain is relatively famous for its tengu statues. The yamabushi chant mantras during the cedar-burning ceremony because sacred fires purify fires caused by disasters. Prayers are offered up for world peace, good health, disaster prevention, road safety and personal safety.

One of the symbols of the yamabushi is their horagai, a conch shell wrapped in netting with a mouthpiece attached. The first time I heard one was while I was climbing Mt. Takao, and I had no idea what the sound was or where it was coming from. I found out later, when a procession of yamabushi came down the mountain. Sometimes life is like that here.

The noise the horagai makes is horrific, like a herd of something is dying. Lucky you, you can hear it in the video below.

 

 

Before the main attraction (that would be “setting everything on fire”), a lone yamabushi approached the cauldron of boiling water (remember that?) and started to beat his naked back with cedar branches. Here’s the video!

 

 

The fire was started soon afterwards by thrusting burning staffs underneath the bonfire, which soon caught on fire and spread.

I wouldn’t describe myself as a pyromaniac (although whether the local police force feel the same is another question), but it was awesome. The height the flames reached and the ash falling on my head and the monks dashing around the fire and the officials throwing things into the crowd… it was incredible. Here, have some shaky video footage which doesn’t do it justice:

 

 

When fire had died down, leaving a raised path of dying embers through the still-fierce flames, the yamabushi proceeded through it. And the people in front of me in a roped-off area followed. Other people rushed forwards and a queue formed. I knew that members of the public were able to do it because the website told me it was possible, but was registration needed? Did I need to buy a ticket?

It never occurred to me to wonder if it would hurt. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t.

Either way, I was certain that if I didn’t do it, I would regret it. I walked further and further back to find the end of the queue. Considering the size of it, I hoped I wouldn’t be asked for a ticket at the other end.

After about half an hour, I was back where I’d been standing earlier. I took my shoes and socks off and rolled up my trouser legs, as instructed. The ground was cold, rocky and dusty as I walked onto a pile of salt that marked the start of the fire-walk. The yamabushi tapped me fairly hard on the shoulder and I began to walk.

Did it hurt? Nah, it was about the same temperature as a pavement (sidewalk) in early summer. The smoke, however, stung my eyes a little. Nothing serious.

One the other side, I was once again standing in a pile of salt. Another yamabushi tapped me on the shoulder and I walked forward to the head monk and knelt. He gave me his blessing and I left the area.

This festival is fantastic and you should definitely go if you can. Below are some more photos plus directions and recommendations. If you want to see some decent photos though, check out Mazikeen’s account of fire-walking in snowy Tokushima prefecture.

 

Three yamabushi. Lighting the fire... Getting more wood to burn...
Yamabushi beating himself. Altar.
Fire-walk. The view from the queue.

 

How To Get There

The station you want is Takaosanguchi on the Keio Takao Line, which leaves from Shinjuku. There are a large number of tourists going to this festival, but others are going up the mountain instead (instead of a fire-walking festival with yamabushi, guys? REALLY?), so careful you don’t follow them. Turn right once you get out of Takaosanguchi Station, but don’t go up. Cross the river and keep in the same direction. You’ll now be walking with festival-goers and not hikers, so there should be no trouble finding your way from there.

 

What To Do

* Arrive fairly early to get a view that doesn’t have a pole, rope hung with shide, or large monks obstructing it. For a good view, but not up close, sitting on the grassy bank seems to work for some people.
* Do it. It doesn’t hurt at all.
* …But don’t be a douche and jump the queue.
* You don’t have to register or pay.
* It’s okay to carry your shoes across.
* Like tea ceremony, just watch the people in front of you and do what they do.
* Buy something at one the of souvenir stalls. It’s like a donation, but you get something nice for your trouble.

Fox dancer

 

Mazikeen’s topic for the JSOC blog carnival was “youkai“. Let me show you my favourite haiku; I’ll tell you what makes it special and its connection with the realm of magic.

 

公達に 狐ばけたり 宵の春
kindachi ni   kitsune baketari   yoi no haru
The fox   Changes himself into a young prince;   The spring evening.
(Buson, translated by R.H. Blyth.)

 

THE HAIKU

 

In just a few words, this haiku describes a hazy, twilight world where fox spirits play and have adventures.

What makes a haiku special is the use of kigo, which is a word or phrase that evokes a particular season. It’s sometimes so culturally-specific as to be imperceptible to Western readers, such as the sound of a crackling fire (without direct reference to the fire itself!) to indicate winter. Other times, like in this fox haiku, Buson just comes right out and says it.

Due to the fact that Japanese doesn’t specify whether something is plural or not, we don’t know how many foxes are out there transforming into noblemen. It might be a single fox, a group of foxes or every fox ever. Folklore is clear on the matter though — it’s every fox ever.

My personal favourite translator of haiku is R. H. Blyth (1898 – 1964) and he only got away with it by translating as best he could and then writing an explanatory paragraph. In the case of that well-known haiku about the frog and the old pond, he did two translations years apart and wrote an essay about it just to make sure he got everything.

Overall, the features of Japanese and the kigo combine to give not just a sense of timelessness, but of a specific moment in the cycle of seasons. For what it’s worth, this haiku dates to 1777. You’re (probably) not thinking of the same hazy spring nights in rural Japan as Buson, but the poem taps into the same dream-like feeling.

(Also? You can forget about the whole 5-7-5 syllable thingy in English. Japanese ‘syllables’ are counted in terms of how many kana are needed, so it’s only loosely connected to the Western concept.)

 

THE FOX

 

Foxes are sneaky — we’ve always known this, regardless of nationality. In a fable attributed to Aesop, you can find a fox who tricks crows out of cheese. In Japan, they can shoot fire from their tails (yes, plural), possess women, transform into humans, become invisible at will and fly. Everything you claimed in your last job interview, in fact.

Choosing a particular story about fox spirits is difficult, because there are a lot of general descriptions and few specifics. However, in terms of iconic value, nothing beats Lafcadio Hearn:

“The invisible fox, as already stated, attaches himself to persons. Like a Japanese servant, he belongs to the household. But if a daughter of that household marry, the fox not only goes to that new family, following the bride, but also colonises his kind in all those families related by marriage or kinship with the husband’s family. Now every fox is supposed to have a family of seventy-five—neither more, nor less than seventy-five—and all these must be fed. So that although such foxes, like ghosts, eat very little individually, it is expensive to have foxes. The fox-possessors (kitsune-mochi) must feed their foxes at regular hours; and the foxes always eat first—all the seventy-live. As soon as the family rice is cooked in the kama (a great iron cooking-pot), the kitsune-mochi taps loudly on the side of the vessel, and uncovers it. Then the foxes rise up through the floor. And although their eating is soundless to human ear and invisible to human eye, the rice slowly diminishes. Wherefore it is fearful for a poor man to have foxes.”

Frankly, I love the way Hearn describes these events in such a matter-of-fact manner. He dares you not to accept that these invisible foxes are just as real as ghosts and then goes into a lecture on the immorality of keeping fox spirits in one’s household. This is a wonderful chapter (albeit with a few problematic sentences due to its age).

Foxes are also popular characters at festivals. In the photograph at the top, you can see a fox dancer at the Kawagoe Festival. They tend to be my favourite dancers — androgynous and graceful, unlike the comedic tanuki.

 

THE FOX AND THE HAIKU

 

The legend behind the foxes in the haiku is so powerful that you can’t ignore its effect in the haiku. The haiku format works to provide a beautiful, timeless experience in a very short space of time.

What do you think of the haiku I chose? Are there other (magical or youkai-themed) ones you like better? Let me know in the comments.

 

Links out:

Chapter from Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan that deals with kitsune

Wikipedia on kitsune

Foxes on a Trampoline (I mean, really, I just figured this would be your kind of thing…)