Matsuri da! (83): The iron chefs live!

LONG-TIME FRIENDS know that the Japanese can transform almost any behavior into an act of reverence at a Shinto festival, and here’s yet another example: Slicing and serving sushi.

The Sushikiri Festival (literally sushi-cutting) is held every 5 May at the Shimoniikawa Shinto shrine in Moriyama, Shiga, in supplication for a good harvest, health, and protection from disaster. It is now a national intangible cultural folk treasure.

Rather than professional sushi chefs, the slicing is done by two young men clad in traditional haori (half-coat) and hakama (divided skirt), as you can see in the photo. They use 20-centimeter-long metal chopsticks to hold the fish with their left hands while they carefully cut the fish with exaggerated motions using a 40-centimeter-long knife held in their right hands. (It is unusual to see metal chopsticks in Japan; most are wooden. The metal variety are more frequently seen in Korea.)

The fish on the menu every year is the funa, of which there are several varieties, none of which has a familiar English name (though many of them end in “carp”). The sushi is first cut for and served to the head priest of the shrine and the chairman of the local citizens’ association. In fact, they’re sitting in formal Japanese style directly across from the two men, though they’re not shown in the photo. (Try the second photo here to see them.) The fish is later distributed to the parishioners who’ve come to participate.

And this funa is not just the run-of-the-mill sushi; this treat has been fermented for three or four years before it’s served. The process originally came from China and has been used in Japan for about 1,000 years. The fermentation creates an odor that many people find unappetizing, but the dish has become a noted product of Shiga. (You can read more about it here and here. Those with a scientific turn of mind might find this to be of interest.)
　
The official story is that the festival, formally known as the Omi-no-Kenketo Festival (the sushi cutting is just one part of it) originated when funazushi was given to a divinity who drifted ashore to the banks of Lake Biwa on a raft 1,300 years ago.

But there are other stories too. Shimoniikawa is one of the six shrines in the country with Toyokiirihiko-no-Mikoto, the eldest son of the Sujin Tenno (emperor), as the enshrined deity. Some versions have it that the food was originally served to Toyokiirihiko, which would make the event closer to 2,000 years old.

Suijin is supposed to have been the 10th Tenno, but no one is sure that he actually existed. His reign years are given as 97 BC to 30 BC, which Japanese historians think is implausibly early. (His recorded life span of 119 years is just as implausible.) Accounts in the Nihon Shoki ascribe some of the same exploits to both the legendary first emperor Jimmu and to Suijin, which lead some to believe that the deeds of a Sujin who might have existed were attributed to Jimmu.

Incidentally, the Shimoniikawa shrine was in the news in March this year when it was confirmed that a Buddhist temple bell found in the storage area for the shrine’s mikoshi in May 2007 is the oldest example of a bell with both Japanese and Korean designs discovered in the country.

Cast in 1419, it is the sixth bell of this type to have ever turned up in Japan. Shown in the second photo, it is 40.6 centimeters tall, 23.9 centimeters wide, and weighs 11.2 kilograms. Reports say that it was used in the “Buddhist temple hall”, which suggests the shrine was once a joint Shinto-Buddhist facility of the kind that no longer exist, though that wasn’t explicitly stated. The Japanese decorations are the dragon heads at the top of the bell, while the Korean motifs are the plant and flower designs on the rest of the bell.

And that just goes to show: There’s no telling what you’re liable to stumble over when you start poking around in a storeroom in Japan!

Requiem for a yokozuna

ARE YOU READY for this?

Japanese professional wrestling promoters Zero 1 Max held wrestling matches at the Yasukuni Shrine (yes, that Yasukuni Shrine) last weekend in an oblational service for the divinities.

The event, dubbed the Yamato Kamisu Strength Festival, was held for a fourth straight year to help bring back the good old days of professional wrestling in Japan. The shrine’s dohyo, or sumo ring, was rearranged to enable the installation of a special wrestling ring for 2,000 spectators. The sumo ring is located near an excellent spot for cherry blossom viewing, so at past events fans have been able to enjoy the refined delights of an o-hanami while cheering the choke holds. This year’s Strength Festival was held before the blooms opened, however. Children of junior high school age and younger were admitted free of charge.

The event was started in 2005 by Hashimoto Shinya, a professional wrestler who died later that year at the age of 40. This year’s card featured seven matches.

Ready for another one?

There is a long tradition of professional wrestlers fighting at Yasukuni Shrine. The most recent occasion before this series was April 23, 1961, when Japanese wrestling legend Rikidozan presided over a card that featured youngsters Giant Baba and Antonio Inoki, who would become stars in their own right. (Inoki also would later form his own political party and win election to a seat in the upper house.) The event attracted 15,000 people.

But the maiden event occurred in March 1921, when American wrestling legend Ad Sentel took on several Japanese judo practitioners from the Kodokan dojo, including Nagata Reijiro, and won all his matches. This story has an interesting background. Sentel took on judo fighter Ito Tokugoro in 1914 and beat him. Ito had publicized himself as a “Japanese judo champion”, so Sentel claimed after his victory that he was the “World Judo Champion” (proving that professional wrestlers haven’t changed much in the past century.) This prompted the embarrassed head of the Kodokan dojo to arrange the matches with Sentel at Yasukuni. The American’s victories popularized what some call “submission wrestling” in Japan.

Holding wrestling matches for the divinities at a Shinto shrine is not as outlandish as it may seem. There is a very long tradition in Japan of festivals with competitive events at Shinto shrines. In addition to sumo, which is closely linked to Shinto, competitions at shrines include archery, tug-of-war, and, according to my reference, even cock-fighting. The idea is that the divinities will favor the more deserving competitor, and the victors in these events will have good fortune in the year ahead.

Ready for one more?

The primary draw this year was the appearance in the ring of the former sumo yokozuna Akebono fighting as one member of a six-man tag team match.

The term yokozuna is usually translated as grand champion, but it is best understood by describing it as the top classification in the sumo ranking system (which is somewhat similar to martial arts). Only the best of the best are elevated to yokozuna status. (Akebono was just the 64th rikishi to earn that rank.) Those chosen are not just the most successful athletes in the Japanese national sport, they are also expected to exemplify its living spiritual traditions, which are 2,000 years old.

For Akebono to become a professional wrestler, it is as if Michael Jordan decided to take up roller derby.

A decade ago, Akebono, who was born Chad Ha’aheo Rowan in Hawaii, was one of the foremost figures in international sport, in his or any era. Because sumo is followed by few people outside of Japan, and because rikishi compete under specially chosen names, his identity and accomplishments are unfamiliar to many.

Rowan was not merely very good—he absolutely dominated sumo during a career that lasted from 1988 to 2001 and set records in the process. And to scale the sumo summit, he had to leave his home in Hawaii to live in Japan and master a foreign language, the techniques of an unfamiliar sport, and the customs and traditions participation in that sport demands.

Rowan appeared in his first tournament in March 1988. There are six tournaments a year, and just 30 tournaments later, in January 1993, he became sumo’s first non-Japanese yokozuna. It was the fastest rise to this rank in the sport’s history. Further, Akebono was the only rikishi to hold the highest rank for nearly two years. Some have likened this feat to a Japanese who has never seen or played football going to an American university and winning the Heisman Trophy four years later.

Akebono’s career match record was 654 wins and 232 losses. He won 11 tournament championships, ranking him 7th in the modern era at the time. (After Akebono retired, another foreign rikishi, Musashimaru, racked up 12. Today’s fallen superstar, the Mongolian Asashoryu, later broke Akebono’s records for speed of promotion, and won 22 championships to place fourth on the all-time list. But that’s another story.)

His stunning competitive record was not the only reason for Akebono’s popularity among the Japanese. Participation in sumo demands an attitude and approach that is almost aesthetic. Unlike his fellow Hawaiian Konishiki, who whined that racism prevented his promotion to yokozuna, Akebono pleased even the most demanding purists with his demeanor. More than a few Japanese wondered if a non-Japanese would ever be honored with elevation to the top rank, as sumo is a conservative, traditional sport in a country that prizes conservatism in its traditions. But Akebono made history in January 1993.

Forced to retire due to a series of knee injuries, there were a wealth of opportunities to pursue. He could have opened his own training organization, as do many former famous rikishi. He could have parleyed his name and fame into television commercials, as did Konishiki. He could have married a trophy wife, as did Takanohana. Indeed, he could have done all three. He was well paid during his days in the ring, earning US$15,000 a month at his peak, not counting bonuses for tournament victories, and could have made a lot more in any number of ways.

So what did Akebono choose to do after retirement? He became a K-1 fighter.

I’m not sure how well known K-1 is outside of Japan, but in Japan it is an extremely popular fighting sport. Venues with a capacity of 45,000 have been known to sell out for matches in an hour. Conducted in a boxing ring, the sport’s promoters claim it combines the martial arts of karate, Thai kickboxing, tae kwon do, and kung fu. The matches seem to be above board, but all the commentators have a background in professional wrestling. Here is their official website.

But it was not just a case of Akebono deciding to become a K-1 fighter. He was a really bad K-1 fighter. Starting with his debut on New Year’s Eve 2003 against Bob Sapp, a fighter so well known in Japan that the bout was dubbed a dream match, the former rikishi was handed his lunch every time he stepped into the ring. His matches seldom lasted more than a couple of minutes against opponents that were often lightly regarded in K-1 circles.

Then the SmackDown! Xprofessional wrestling show made its way to Japan two years ago. Akebono attended and was invited into the ring by one of the wrestlers, The Big Show. The two shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before Akebono left. But Akebono didn’t leave it there. In a story familiar to anyone who has ever been a 10-year-old boy, there was a report that SmackDown’s announcer “tracked Big Show down backstage and told him word out of Japan was that Akebono wanted to face Show at WrestleMania 21 later that year in Los Angeles.”

Big Show accepted the challenge and the match was arranged. It was a sumo style match, which naturally gave Akebono an advantage. Perhaps the organizers did not want Akebono to flop as badly in professional wrestling as he did in K-1. Another possibility was suggested by wrestling commentator NormanB: “What’s going to happen: Akebono wins, because celebrity pseudo-wrestlers NEVER lose to sports entertainers. Examples: Lawrence Taylor, Jay Leno, David Arquette, Mr. T, Kevin Greene…”

During a weigh-in that must have used cattle scales, Akebono showed up at 504 pounds while the seven-foot-tall Big Show tipped the scales at a mere 493. The Big Show has a sense of humor about his size. He told an interviewer, “We have to take these small commuter planes, and I feel like I’m wearing the plane, not sitting in it.”

The interviewer asked him if professional wrestling was fake, recalling that another wrestler once told him the moves were choreographed but the pain was real. Here’s Big Show’s answer:

I’ve had Undertaker kick me in the nuts so hard in The Garden, I just about passed out on Triple H. The chairs are metal, and your ears will ring for about two days after a good chair shot. That’s the thing that people don’t understand. We put our bodies on the line to tell that emotional story.…I just hope that one day they have a Mac Truck wheel chair so I’ll be able to get around.

Once upon a time, Akebono was the most respected member of a 2,000-year-old tradition, a record holder, and a true pioneer after rising to the top as a foreigner in a world that is one of the most traditional of Japanese endeavors. Yet a little more than a decade later, he was challenging Big Show to a match in WrestleMania 21. The result? Big Show briefly picked up Akebono up off his feet, but after one minute and two seconds, Akebono shoved his opponent out of the ring. He was a victor again, though this time it was probably scripted. And I’m sure the pain was real.

Eight years ago, Akebono appeared in a sumo ritual at Yasukuni at the pinnacle of his professional fame. Last weekend, few even in Japan noticed as he threw his weight around once again to take down his opponents. He said he was nervous at first, but happy to be back.

He seems to have found his niche. He said he wants to continue his career as a professional wrestler as a single instead of being part of a tag team.

If the dramatist and author Rod Serling were still alive, he might call this Requiem for A Yokozuna.

Yasukuni: The movie

HERE’S A CASE in which some politicians are getting it right, but for all the wrong reasons.

The case involves the incipient controversy over the documentary film Yasukuni, directed by Li Ying and slated for release on 12 April. The film has become controversial because to make it the producers received a 7.5 million yen subsidy (slightly less than $US 73,000) from the Japan Arts Council, an independent administrative body under the jurisdiction of the Agency for Cultural Affairs. One condition for receiving a JAC film subsidy is the absence of intent to deliver a political message. Some members of the ruling Liberal Democratic Party think the movie fails to meet that condition, and the party’s Research Commission on Culture and Tradition plans to look into the subsidy system.

The movie, which was 10 years in production, focuses on a master swordsmith who made the so-called Yasukuni sword on the shrine grounds. The Japan Arts Council subsidy comes from a special fund that uses money provided by the Japanese government.

Politicians Object

An association of young LDP members, chaired by lower house representative Inada Tomomi, asked the Agency for Cultural Affairs whether the financial support was appropriate. This prompted the distributor, Argo Pictures, to hold a “special emergency screening” for members of both the ruling and opposition parties, and about 40 showed up to watch.

After the screening, the LDP association met at party headquarters with a different group of young LDP parliamentarians with a long and cumbersome name that doesn’t translate comfortably into English but clearly expresses their aim of encouraging politicians to visit the Yasukuni shrine.

They certainly didn’t like what they saw. Some who attended the meeting objected to the use in the film of statements by two plaintiffs in a suit against former Prime Minister Koizumi Jun’ichiro for visiting the shrine. The plaintiffs charged in their suit that the prime minister’s visits were unconstitutional.

Further complicating matters is the additional condition that only Japanese films are eligible for subsidies. Upper house MP Nishida Shoji wondered whether the film met that condition because it was a joint production with a Chinese company.

Ms. Inada later commented:

“I don’t feel like critiquing the content of the film because the Constitution guarantees freedom of expression, but I have doubts that a government-affiliated organization should be providing subsidies to a film that deals with the political topic of the Yasukuni Shrine.”

Incidentally, both the Japan Arts Council and the Agency for Cultural Affairs think they followed the proper procedures for the grant, though a spokesman said there were bound to be different views on the film because it was a documentary.

Of course their views can be dismissed out of hand: they’re trying to justify their decision regardless of the merits of the case because they have to justify their existence. If they don’t have any largesse to hand out for film-making, there’s no reason for them to have a job.

The Real Issue

It’s reasonable to assume that Ms. Inada and the other Diet members who object to the funding do so because they disagree with the opinions they saw expressed in the movie. But would they be as anxious to make this an issue if the people making comments on Yasukuni visits in the film were supporters of those visits?

The opinions–whatever they are–shouldn’t make any difference either way. Those who oppose the Yasukuni visits should also be at the front of the line objecting to any government subsidies for the movie. The failure to object on principle lowers the debate to the level of cheerleading for the home team, which misses the point.

It’s a shame that Ms. Inada didn’t take that thought about Constitutionally guaranteed freedom of expression further, because that’s the crux of the matter.

The reason the government isn’t supposed to fund political opinions in a movie—or any medium at all—is because it violates the right of free speech and expression for any taxpayer who disagrees with that opinion.

The right of free speech includes more than the right to be able to stand up in a public place and say the government is wrong.

It also includes the right to keep one’s mouth shut and not express any opinion. Presumably, many of the people who would object to politicians visiting Yasukuni would also object to, say, the Tokyo Metropolitan District’s policy of having school teachers sing or play the national anthem. Some school teachers have been suing the TMD government because they think the policy deprives them of the opportunity to exercise their rights by forcing them to express what they don’t believe in.

Is it wrong to make a person sign a loyalty oath? If so, it’s just as wrong to force taxpayers to subsidize political opinions they dislike. After all, the taxpayers don’t have any choice in whether they have to pay the taxes, from which government agencies receive their funds, and the uses to which those agencies put those funds.

In this case, the government is forcing some people to pay for the expression of a political opinion with which they disagree. There are many things a government has no business doing, and that’s just one of them.

It’s unfortunate, but the most important argument in this debate is the one you’re least likely to hear.

Working the salt beds at a Shinto shrine

IF YOU’VE SEEN A SUMO MATCH, you know that the rikishi, or wrestlers, usually spend more time on the preliminary rituals than it takes to decide the winner of the match itself. Those rituals last around four minutes, while many matches are over in a matter of seconds seconds.

Those symbolic rituals are deeply connected to Shinto, the Japanese folk religion, as are many aspects of sumo. Even the referee is dressed as a Shinto priest, and the canopy over the ring, called a yakata, resembles the design of shrine roof.

Apart from the belt-slapping and the staredowns, the most recognizable of those preliminary rituals is the tossing of salt into the ring for purification. Indeed, as an agent for purification, salt is an indispensable part of Shinto.

Where does all that salt come from? Certainly not the supermarket. In fact, at the Mishiodono Shinto shrine in Ise, Mie, they make it themselves in a traditional method using salt taken from a nearby salt bed. The connection between salt and the shrine is so close that the shrine’s name, mishio, is derived from the word shio, or salt, preceded by an honorific. (Note that the shrine calls itself Mishiodono, but the people in the neighborhood call it Mishioden.)

As you can see from the photo, the people at the shrine consider this serious business, and that attitude extends even to their work clothing. The shrine produces all the salt used for its activities during two periods, one in March, which is just now ending, and one in October. Both last for about five days.

The rough salt taken from the bed (in a process that extracts it from seawater) is packed in a three-sided earthen container using a wooden ladle. It is then baked in an earthen oven until it hardens into a block. Each of the sides is about 10 centimeters long, and one block weighs about 800 grams. They make about 20 blocks a day.

The man in photo, named Kitai Noritada (I think), commented, “I put my heart into the work to make good salt”.

Don’t pass up the chance to see these excellent photographs. The first is of the shrine’s salt bed. Notice the torii, or Shinto arch, at the far side. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen one permanently installed anywhere other than at the front entrance to the grounds of a shrine. The second is of the building where they bake the blocks.

Japan is not the only place where salt is used in religious ceremonies, by the way. In the Catholic Church’s traditional Latin mass, the priest mixes salt with holy water, blesses the mixture, and sprinkles it on the altar.

Cleanliness–or purity–is next to godliness, after all!

Turnstiles for a World Heritage site

ANYONE WHO’S SEEN PHOTOS promoting tourism in Japan has seen the entrance to the Itsukushima Shinto shrine on the island of Miyajima in Hiroshima Bay. The bright red torii, or shrine gateway, stands in the water of the bay leading to the island.

Built in 1168, the shrine is a UNESCO World Heritage site that attracts roughly three million visitors a year from throughout Japan and around the world. The sheer volume of visitors means the area requires considerable maintenance, and the site itself required a great deal of maintenance to begin with. The shrine’s structural members are subject to water damage, and the pine forest surrounding the shrine has been suffering from blight.

In addition, a September 2004 typhoon destroyed the Sagakubo, a hall at the shrine for the performance of ritual music and dance. Hatsukaichi, the municipality in which the site is located, was liable for 40 million yen (almost US $386,000) of the 790 million yen in repair costs.

That’s a substantial financial burden for a small local government to deal with, so they’ve decided they’re going to get assistance for all those expenditures. The city has decided to charge what it calls an “island admission tax” to pay for the upkeep of the shrine, the cultural treasures, and the surrounding environment. (In fact, it will be technically classified as an “environmental cooperation tax”.)

Levying this tax was one of the campaign pledges of Hatsukaichi Mayor Shinno Katsuhiro. Now that he’s been elected, he’s going to be keeping his campaign promise. (Isn’t it just like a politician to keep the promises that cost money!)

Mayor Shinno is going to make the case for the tax to City Council this month, though the council’s decision is a foregone conclusion. A project team will be established in April to create a framework proposal for the amount of the tax and who exactly will pay. Later in this summer, a committee of experts and island residents will be formed to study the issue in greater detail. Mayor Shinno says he hopes people will understand why the tax is needed because protecting the environment costs a lot of money.

Japan’s Agency for Cultural Affairs agrees. They say protection of the surrounding area is absolutely necessary because it comprises a single entity with the shrine. The agency also notes that one of the conditions of registration as a World Heritage site is the establishment of measures for the protection of the entire area. Incidentally, this will be the first charge to be levied for the protection of a World Heritage site in Japan.

Izena in Okinawa Prefecture levied a similar tax in 2005, and it costs 100 yen, slightly less than a U.S. dollar, for entry to the island.

Here’s the English-language website for Miyajima, and here’s the UNESCO page for the Itsukushima shrine, both of which are worth your time. This YouTube video offers a lot of different views in 1:49, including shots taken at high tide and at low tide.

Yasukuni soba

SOME PEOPLE VISIT the Yasukuni Shinto shrine in Tokyo’s Chiyoda Ward to pay their respects to the Japanese war dead. Others make a point to see the Yushukan war memorial museum next to the shrine itself. And then there are those who go there for a bowl of soba.

On the shrine grounds is a gift shop that has a section where visitors can buy food and drinks. One of the menu items is the Yasukuni soba, which is so popular that nearby businesspeople, office workers, and taxi drivers are known to make a special trip for lunch.

The noodles in the Yasukuni soba contain mugwort, known as yomogi in Japanese, which has been traditionally used as a seasoning, food, and herbal medicine in China, Korea, and Japan. Other ingredients in the soup include egg that has been cooked and cut into strings, wild vegetables, shiitake mushrooms, pork, kamaboko (a sort of steamed fish paste), wakame (seaweed), and spring onions. Eating a bowl of soba with all those ingredients is somewhat like ordering pizza with everything.

A bowl of the shrine’s soba costs 800 yen ($US 7.65), which seems to be a fair price. If diners prefer, they can substitute the thicker udon noodles made with regular flour for the thinner soba noodles made with buckwheat flour.

If this is a gimmick, it’s been a rather successful one. The shop has been selling the dish for about 35 years, and during cherry blossom or festival seasons, they serve from 500 to 600 bowls per day. Visitors can also order yakisoba (fried soba noodles), curried rice, or other foods, but the company operating the shop says that most people pick the soba.

If you’re in the neighborhood and want to try some, the shop is open from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. No reservations or necktie necessary!

Pitching a new kind of tent in Japan

BUILD A BETTER MOUSETRAP, they say, and people will beat a path to your door. That might be easier said than done—the basic mousetrap model is still cheap and works very well.

But what if you’re in the business of making tents and canvas sheets? The textile industry once flourished in Nagoya and its environs, and many companies in that sector are still based there, but these days most of their revenue comes from producing awnings for shop exteriors and dividers for factory interiors. Their assessment of overall growth? Business is not booming.

That’s why a local college professor joined forces with representatives from the industry and officials in the Nagoya municipal government to form the Tent Research Association and come up with designs for new products. Their version of the better mousetrap was a tent designed with Japanese motifs for use at outdoor events and ceremonies.

The photo shows their first prototype model, which was tried out earlier this week at the Yagoto Kosho-ji in Nagoya. (That’s a Buddhist temple whose Japanese-only website is here.) The Association is pleased with the results of their brainstorming sessions. They said, “It’s a perfect match for the mood at Shinto or Buddhist events. This is Nagoya’s first new product, and we want to sell it throughout the country.”

The tent is made using navy blue material and wooden poles, and features an upper ridge that resembles the roof of a Shinto shrine. It has an aluminum frame, making it light and easy to assemble and take down. The association developed two models: a large one that is 4.6 meters wide and 2.4 meters deep, and a smaller one that is 3.6 meters wide and 1.8 meters deep. Both are two meters tall.

Most of the conventional tents used for functions at schools and other locations are white, but the Association chose to create tents that are navy blue, green, and brown, and decorated with a Japanese crest. They hope it will become the tent of choice for Shinto shrines, Buddhist temples, funeral homes, and tea parties, as well as the usual sites.　

The chairman of the association said he thinks the tent’s wide range of potential uses and unique Japanese design will make it a popular item. He didn’t say how much it would cost, but did say the price would drop if demand grew. If you want one, give him a call at 0563-56-0881.

I like the looks of it myself, but I’m not sure if it qualifies as a better mousetrap. I wonder how comfortable those dark colors will be in Japan’s sauna-like summers.

Greeting the new year the Japanese way

YEAREND IS THE ENGLISH WORD used to describe both the end of the business year and the period during which New Year’s holiday events take place. The same word is used in Japan, but more frequently to denote the end of the business year. When referring to the period during which the holiday events take place, the Japanese tend to use the term nenmatsu nenshi, or year-end, year-beginning.

That’s because there are as many New Year’s events after the year begins as there are before it ends. Often, these events are held to mark the first occasion in the New Year people will perform a specific activity.

Everyone knows about the custom of the daily bath in Japan, for example, so it will be no surprise that one of the New Year events would be the first bath of the year at the Arima hot springs in Kobe (first photo). Naturally, they make a point of using the first bath water of the year.

This year, about 400 people were present to watch the tribute to the hot spring founders and the offering of a prayer for future prosperity. There was also a parade with mikoshi, or portable Shinto shrines, and combined Buddhist and Shinto ceremonies.

Legend has it that the Arima hot springs were discovered by two gods, O’onamuchi-no-mikoto and Sukunahikona-no-mikoto. No one seems to have pinpointed the date of the discovery, but there are records of Imperial visits to the bath in the 7th century.

The facilities later fell into disrepair, but were restored by the monk Gyoki in the 8th century. It also was destroyed after an earthquake and rebuilt by the monk Ninsai in the 11th century. The spa waters of Arima must be superb for people to keep bringing the place back to life!

During the event, which is roughly 300 years old, employees of a local ryokan, or Japanese inn, and monks in ancient dress carry the mikoshi from a temple to a local elementary school. There they hold a ceremony to cool the water until it’s the right temperature for bathing. And by way of honoring tradition and thanking the people who made the spa what it is today, they also splash water on statues of Gyoki and Ninsai!

Karuta

Since the start of a new year is a holiday, there’s no better way to spend one’s free time than by playing games—or in this case, cards, or karuta as they are traditionally called in Japanese (second photo).

The Yasaka Shrine in Higashiyama Ward, Kyoto, held the first karuta competition of the year early in January with the help of the members of a local association called the Nihon Karuta-In. The women playing the game— dubbed the karuta princesses—dressed in the clothing of court nobles during the Heian period (794-1185).

This is not the Japanese version of gin rummy. Instead, the game is a fascinating blend of the artistic and the competitive. It is sometimes called hyakunin isshu, or Single Poems by a Hundred Poets. That name is an apt description because the poems used are a collection of 100 waka, or verses consisting of 31 syllables. These specific poems are thought to have been written by 100 different people during the period from the mid-7th century to no later than 1242. Here’s how the game is played.

There are two sets of 100 cards on which the poems are written. One set is used by a reader, and the other set is used by the competitors, who face each other with the cards lying on the floor between them. The reader recites the first three lines of the waka, and the two contestants compete to be the first to take the card on which the full poem is written.

Don’t let the costumes fool you—those ladies have lightning fast reflexes, and by the rules, they don’t have to grab the cards. All that’s required is to be the first to flick them to the side. Simply watching a match can be engrossing, as it combines elegant historical clothing and knowledge of poetry with the steely gaze, calm demeanor, and cobra-quick attack of seasoned competitors.

Flower Arranging

Those women who prefer artistic pursuits without the head-to-head competition might have chosen to participate instead in the first flower arranging ceremony of the New Year on the 5th at the headmaster’s dojo of the Ikenobo school of flower arranging in Kyoto’s Nakagyo Ward (third photo). A total of 1,400 people ranging in age from 11 to 97 came from around the country to create their own floral works of art.

The event dates back to the Muromachi period (1333-1568), when people met to exchange New Year’s greetings and pledge to promote the art of flower arranging. The practice soon became an annual custom.

The 11-year-old girl who participated, Yamane Ayaka, told an interviewer she visualized a flower garden during the creation of her work, and that she hoped to continue flower arranging as a junior high school student.

It’s likely that Ayaka got her early start in flower arranging because her parents are involved in the art. The two characters used to write her first name mean “brightly-colored flower”.

Archery

Read a Japanese newspaper early in January, and you’re almost certain to see photographs such as this one in which the practitioners of traditional Japanese archery take aim for their first shots of the New Year in their own ceremony (fourth photo). The archers shown here gathered on the 3rd at a site in Otsu, Shiga, to demonstrate their resolve to improve their skills in the coming year.

It was sponsored by the Shiga Archery League, and about 80 members ranging in age from 16 to 83 participated. The head of the organization conducted a formal ceremony called the yawatashi, or “handing over the arrow”, to open the event, and then 10 people formed lines to shoot two arrows at a target 28 meters away.

Firefighting

Most of these events are derived from centuries-old Japanese traditions, and the participants are usually serious hobbyists. One exception, however, was the first firefighting drills of the New Year conducted by the Tokyo Fire Department with 2,800 firefighters on the morning of the 6th at the Tokyo International Exhibition Center. The participants also included personnel from regional fire departments and corporate firefighting teams.

This was a full-scale drill, complete with entertainment. A total of nine squads were mobilized, and they used 130 trucks and four helicopters. Tokyo Fire Chief Teruyuki Kobayashi started the morning off by remarking that Tokyo area firefighters were given a reminder of the difficulty of their work last year by their struggles to contain a fire resulting from an explosion at a Shibuya bathing facility. He urged the men to use their training and experience to protect the lives and safety of the citizens.

Then they showed off their firefighting and rescue skills in exercises based on conditions they might expect to deal with when confronted by fires in buildings and ships, or collapsed buildings in earthquakes.
　
The event closed with the acrobatic display shown in the fifth photo of the traditional ladder-climbing techniques firefighters used during the Edo period (1606-1868). Some of those moves seem as if they might have been performed more to impress the audience than to demonstrate actual techniques that were used to fight fires!

Dondoyaki

Many different decorations are used during the New Year’s holidays, as we saw in this previous post, and most of them originate with Shinto. Because some of these decorations are thought to be associated with the divinity—or even considered to be a divinity’s temporary dwelling–they are not casually tossed in the trash when the holidays are over.

Instead, Shinto shrines conduct a special ceremony known as the dondoyaki to ritually burn these items. This particular New Year’s burning took place on the 7th at the Takayama shrine in Tsu, Mie, with a prayer for peace, health, and safety in the coming year (last photo).

The priests held a special fire-lighting ceremony at 8 a.m., after which they started the fire at the site for sacred incineration with 15 parishioners helping.

After all the decorations were burned, the shrine thoughtfully distributed nanakusakayu, or rice gruel with the traditional seven spring herbs, to visitors.

It’s worth remembering that these events are held by and for members of the general public with an interest in traditional activities (except for the firefighters, of course). In Japan, at least, there are still pleasant and rewarding ways to spend one’s time during a time of year that for some is just dead space to be filled by watching television.

Volunteer firefighters at a Shinto shrine

SOMETIMES, A FIREFIGHTER JUST ISN’T AROUND when you need one.

The folks at the Dazaifu Tenmangu, a Shinto shrine in Dazaifu, Fukuoka, hope they never need to call the fire department. The main sanctuary has been designated an important national cultural treasure. The shrine is also the repository of many documents, art, and crafts dating from the Heian period to the Edo period (which covers 1100 years).

That’s why every year around 26 January, the shrine priests and miko, or shrine maidens (roughly equivalent to altar boys at a Catholic church) hold fire drills on the Fire Protection for Cultural Properties Day.

As you can see from the photo, when they have a fire drill, they take it seriously! The miko attached the hoses to the hydrants themselves and started squirting. As Matsuo Risa, one of the miko, said, “We want to respond quickly if there’s an emergency.”

The original of this shrine dates back to 919, when it was built at the imperial command in dedication to the spirit of Sugawara no Michizane. (Read more about him from a previous post here.) He became the patron of calligraphy and scholarship, and to this day students preparing for entrance examinations make a pilgrimage here to pray for success in their tests. The present building was constructed in 1591.

It’s a good thing they don’t have any of my old examination papers among those documents they have stored. I’d be tempted to let them burn!

Shogatsu: Japan’s spring cleaning in December

MANY PEOPLE IN WESTERN COUNTRIES would enthusiastically welcome the adoption of some Japanese customs, such as the practice of removing one’s shoes before entering a house. For example, I’ve heard more than one housewife in the United States express the wish that they could enforce the no-shoe rule in their own home.

One local tradition I am not enthused about, however, is the timing of the major housecleaning at the end of the year. I understand the principle behind it, but I’d prefer to go outside and wash the windows in April, when the weather is warmer, instead of the last week in December.

Nevertheless, Japanese throughout the archipelago have been busy this week making sure their homes and business offices are clean and fresh for the new year, inside and out. (At the coffee shop in a small museum I like to visit on Friday afternoons, one of the employees today was taking out and dusting off every CD in the rack, as well as the exterior and interior of the rack itself.)

It’s often observed that the Japanese devotion to cleanliness borders on the religious, and that devotion might be more literal than some suspect. For example, the miko, or Shinto shrine maidens (roughly equivalent to altar boys in a Catholic church), shown in the photo are removing the cobwebs at the Terukuni Shinto shrine in Kagoshima City during the annual susuharai. (That literally means cleaning away the soot, though the word harai also has religious overtones of purification).

This ceremony-cum-shrine cleaning combines the practical with the religious by dealing with the dust and dirt that has collected over the past year near the roof of the main hall, which at Terukuni is six meters high. The six miko are wielding four-meter-long bamboo brooms, the tool used at shrines for this particular chore. When they finish this job, they’ll get to work preparing the amulets, hamaya arrows, and other good luck charms that will be sold at the shrines during the New Year’s holiday.

And I’m not joking when I say it’s the spring cleaning in December. The New Year season in Japan is sometimes referred to as shinshun, or new spring, based on the tradition that considers the first, second, and third months of the year as spring.

It might not be the most pleasant of tasks to dress up in those outfits and clean the shrine exterior in December (even down south in Kagoshima, where it’s warmer), but they still have it easier than these folks. I’m glad I’m not part of that work crew!