Short Story: Big In Japan

Short Story: Big In Japan

At a bar near Fuji one night in the bubble years of the 1980’s as a retired geisha Mama San danced for us with a fan decorated with pure gold, an architect friend from Tokyo memorably told us that he did not have a car because financially he had been forced to make the choice between driving to work or having a few beers at the end of the day. We still have the fan that the Mama San gave us, and perhaps now that things have changed economically in Japan, Tomi has his car.

Many preconceptions about Japan find their roots in such stories from the eighties. It is still an expensive destination, but not as crazy as it once was. The competitive spirit that surfaces during a visit to the hot bath onsens can still bring to mind the 80’s show ‘Endurance’. One imagines also that Japanese cities will be crowded, polluted and exhausting. Not if you visit at New Year. It may be more traditional to visit during the spring cherry blossom festivals of April and May, but if you want to experience the secret heart of Japan, go between December 28th and January 3rd, the traditional New Year holiday. This may not be the best time to experience one of Japan’s favourite pastimes – shopping, but it is certainly the most interesting time to visit Kyoto and Tokyo’s temples, and the only chance to see inside the walls of the enigmatic Imperial Palace.

Modern Japan is a palimpsest. The eastern capital Tokyo and old western capital Kyoto are phonic palindromes, similarly scarred by war and natural disaster. In both cities, fragments of the past glimmer through to the present. Now that sushi, karaoke and sencha are staples of any cosmopolitan western life, I wondered what surprises Japan had left to offer. We wanted to revisit the spiritual heart of Japan, and see what had changed. It is not the obvious differences between east and west, so much as the contrasts within the society itself that are so startling to the newly arrived visitor. Like the UK, Japan is a fiercely proud, historic nation that values tradition. Layered upon this is a culture that voraciously consumes the cutting edge and the ephemeral. Japan is a place where the past and future are alive and well, Manga meets Haiku, and Hello Kitty coexists with Kabuki.

The changes in Japan were immediately apparent to us. It seemed greyer somehow. There was less obvious money. The standard of education is reported to be less rigorous, and crime is rising. To a society that has a correct ‘way’ to do everything from being a warrior to pouring tea, the increasingly rebellious younger generation is a cause for concern. Traditionalists berate what they call this ‘scourge of rudeness,’ while others accept it as a natural result of a more open society. Miike Takashi, Director of the controversial Japanese film ‘Audition’ reflected recently that “Japan is a safe place, but I wonder if there is something unnatural about the placidity of its society… it looks like we won’t be able to hold onto that in the future.”

For now at least, travelling in Japan is as safe, clean and efficient as you would imagine. On arrival in Osaka, we found the streets to be peaceful and virtually traffic free. The last day of trading is a cause for celebration in Japan, and as most of this goes on behind closed doors or at home with families in the provinces, you will find the cities have an otherworldly, ghostly charm. If you can tear yourself away from the unaccustomed delights of computerised toilet bidets, bean pillows and complementary yukatas at your hotel, it is a great time to explore.

On the street, a hostess hurried past us on the way from one engagement to the next. The silence was broken only by the clatter of her wooden geta shoes. Her face was luminous in the night, her lips blood red. She had a dark cloak pulled tightly around her, but as she walked, the bright silk of her kimono flashed at her white ankles. She ducked beneath a split curtain noren into a restaurant. As we paused to get a hot can of coffee from a vending machine, a group of pleasantly drunk businessmen in tuxedos emerged and piled into a Mercedes from one of the city’s many ‘clubs’. The scent of their cigars hung on the frozen air as we walked on, warming our hands on the coffee cans.

Japan is not an easy country to navigate. It is one of the last places on earth that as a ‘gaijin’ westerner you feel truly alien. At many times it does feel like you will forever be on the outside looking in. People are superficially very polite and helpful, but tourists are excluded from a great deal without a local guide. The trains and metros can be particularly challenging. Trying to get to Kyoto, and faced with an unintelligible map of characters, we were resorting to hazy memories and gut instincts when a kindly soul approached. Though Japanese, he was shabbily dressed and his hair was matted into dreadlocks. “Can I help you?” he asked in perfect English. We chatted with him as he showed us to the correct platform. It turned out our saviour was a connoisseur of Cool Britannia.

Kyoto is the cultural heart of Japan. Here you will find schools of the tea ceremony, Ikebana, No and Kabuki. Living National Treasures reside in Kyoto. They are people venerated for their skill in the traditional crafts. In Kyoto, the street crossings sound like cuckoo clocks. There is something genteel about the place. The winter colours of the moss, the stone walls and politeness of a provincial town reminded me of visiting a maiden aunt. Taxis are bedecked with crocheted antimacassars, the seats wrapped in plastic. The drivers wear white knitted gloves.

Our minds were full of ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’ as we approached the Gion that night. We found it closed and shuttered, the tea and geisha houses impenetrable to the uninitiated. On the dark streets, we passed an occasional hostess escorted by her walker. Above us, wires and aerials criss-crossed the streets like a tangled cat’s cradle, testament to Japan’s impatient growth. Beneath the tiled roofs of the dark brown weathered houses, we found a geta shop that seemed to have been there for centuries. A pair of red geta worth hundreds of pounds was illuminated in the window. They were like miniature lacquered sailing boats with velvet thongs to anchor them to tiny feet.

As in many places in Japan, at Ryoanji, rather less elegant rubber slippers are provided for you to change into on arrival at the famous Zen temple. You leave your own shoes on shelves at the entrance. Try not to make the mistake of thinking the slatted mats are changing areas, or you too will find an irate monk charging towards you, robes flying as he cries “Off, off!” It is only too easy to commit a foot faux pas in Japan. If in doubt, if you see a row of slippers, remove your shoes discreetly and use them.

There is an inscription on a ceremonial washbasin at Ryoanji that says ‘I learn only to be contented’. In the peace of the setting, you can begin to see how this may be possible. Sound is muffled in water, stone, and moss. The famous rock and gravel garden itself is surprisingly small – only 30 metres by 10m. Our guide told us: “It is up to each visitor to find out for himself what this unique garden signifies. The longer you gaze at it, the more varied your imagination becomes.” Stay long enough and the fifteen stones embrace infinite meanings.

The beauty of nearby Rokuon-Ji, also known as Kinkaku-ji, (the Golden Pavilion), was immortalised by Yukio Mishima. Its perfection so obsessed a deranged acolyte that he burnt it down in 1950. The current temple is an exact replica. The bronze moss, deep green lake and the newly gilded temple resonate against the slate grey sky. In the gardens around the temple, we came upon a shrine in front of a deeply eroded Buddha. A pewter bowl with worn silver coins lay before him on the frost bitten moss. It was the most tranquil place I have ever visited. In the 1220’s the temple was the villa of Kintsune Saionji. When Yoshimitsu, the third Shogun of Ashikaga abdicated his throne in 1394, he made it his home. He decreed that after his death Rokuon-Ji should become a Zen temple. Of the temple, only the golden pavilion now survives, but the gardens are much as they were in his day.

In Tokyo, Oshogatsu (Dec 31) is a subdued affair, spent with family, but just before midnight the temple bells ring out 108 times to celebrate Ganjitsu. On January 1st, Hatsumode, the first visit of the year to a shrine, takes place. Hours before the crowds descended on the most important Shinto shrine in Tokyo for the traditional first day visit to the shrines, the ancient wooded grounds of Meiji-jingu were silent and deserted like a stage before the actors have arrived. As mist gathered over the tori gates, we walked the empty avenues. White lanterns gleamed in the darkness. The shrine was decked with traditional arrows and woven corn arrangements for the celebration. While nearby the first pilgrims purified themselves with water, we were lured away to Yoyogi Koen by the smells of grilled chicken and fresh noodles coming from the stalls lining the entrance to the park. As the bells rang out we celebrated with succulent yakisoba and toasted the New Year with hot sake in the park. 3m visitors would pour through Meiji-jingu the next day. I can definitely recommend a sneak preview of this oasis in the city while it remains serene.

In order to truly experience Hatsumode, a trip to the major Buddhist temple, Senso-ji, is not to be missed on January 1st. Buddhism and Shinto coexist peacefully in Japan. Many people will pray to Shinto gods on a day to day basis, but major events will be celebrated at the Buddhist temples. Senso-ji is also known as the Asakusa Kannon, for the tiny statute of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, which is enshrined there. The statue is not on show, but Senso-ji is an event in itself. Fearsome guardians of Thunder and Wind watch over the gate as you enter the grounds. A sea of petitioners and worshippers flows endlessly through the avenues leading to the temple. Stalls that sell hair combs and fans, geisha make up and noren line the streets. Compared to Meiji, it is a carnival atmosphere with plastic blossom dancing above you, and traditional sparkly arrows for sale at every corner. Most people were smartly dressed – some in exquisite fur collared kimonos, others less formal in the cyber-punk uniform of black platform boots and fluorescent hair. Once in the temple, traditionalist and radical purified themselves side by side, by sweeping incense, ‘the breath of the gods’, over themselves.

Nowhere is the collision between old and new clearer than in Tokyo. Fast track development has brought Japan both the good and bad of industrialised society. After leaving Senso-ji, we went to Ueno Park. The trees were like silver ghosts, sleeping out the winter until the cherry blossom springs into life again. Beside a temple, petitioners had tied calligraphy onto the branches of one tree. Looking across the park, we saw the National Museum. Near the entrance to Japan’s past, a neat blue canvas homeless city has sprung up in recent years. At the temple, we had our fortunes told. Who knows what the future holds for Japan. For now, at least, there is still the chance to glimpse a fascinating society where past, present and future inextricably coexist.