A Seoul performance of the palilmu

HERE’S A SERENDIPITOUS FIND: While looking for something else, I ran across a snippet in the Korea Times about the palilmu performance in Seoul last Sunday. The palilmu is a dance performed on the first Sunday in May by 64 women divided equally into eight rows. (It’s a yin and yang thang!)

The dance was brought from China and first performed in Korea in 1116 during the Goryeo dynasty. During the Joseon dynasty, it was incorporated into the Jongmyo Daejae, or Royal Shrine Ritual, a rite to honor the ancestors of the royal family. (The Jongmyo is the royal shrine.)

It used to be a common sight once upon a time, as it was performed five times a year (the first month of each season and in December), but that ended when the Japanese arrived. The performances resumed in 1965.

The word palilmu is derived from pal, or the number eight, and ilmu, which is a line dance. The entire ritual includes other ceremonies, music, and dance, and is conducted according to Confucian practice. That’s not surprising, because Confucianism has been a strong influence in Korea, much more so than in Japan.

After watching the video here, which supposedly has explanations in four languages, I was struck by the similarity of the music with that of gagaku, or the ancient ceremonial music of the Japanese court. (Not the instrumentation, but the underlying music itself.) Like palilmu, gagaku music and dance originated in China (with some performances also coming from Korea), and neither are performed in China today.

There are two varieties of palilmu: munmu and mumu. The women perform munmu in the first part of the video, with three-holed bamboo flutes in their left hand and a wooden bar adorned with pheasant feathers in their right. The latter part of the video shows the mumu, which is a military dance. The dancers in the first four rows wield wooden swords, and those in the last four rows hold spears.

The ceremony has been designated a Korean intangible cultural asset, and (not that it makes any difference) part of UNESCO’s intangible cultural heritage of the world. (Here’s the explanation on the UNESCO site.)

I would have loved to have been there to see it, but the video’s the next best thing!

Postscript: Here’s a YouTube clip of a gagaku dance for comparison. Keep in mind the form also includes other dances and music unaccompanied by dance.

Matsuri da! (79): The elegance of autumn

ELEGANCE SEEMS TO HAVE BECOME the theme for cultural posts this week, which reminded me that I still had a couple of stories I wasn’t able to fit in before. Better late than never!

The first involves a samurai parade from a Shinto shrine to a Buddhist temple under a canopy of fall foliage. That was the 18th Sekigan-ji Autumn Leaves Festival at the Sekigan-ji, a Buddhist temple noted for its attractive fall colors, in Tamba, Hyogo. (Here’s a nice photo of the temple itself.)

The participants were recreating an event from the early part of the 14th century. Ashikaga Takauji, the first Muromachi shogun, and his son Yoshiakira took refuge in this temple after suffering a defeat in battle. Here’s a good summary of Takauji’s career, during which he fought to restore the direct rule of the tenno (emperor), and then changed his mind two years later and backed another guy instead. This was, if I’m not mistaken, the last gasp for direct Imperial rule in Japan.

The parade was led by two people on horseback in the roles of Takauji and Yoshiakira. Following them were 50 people dressed as samurai and warrior priests. The two men and their retinue walked the three kilometers from the Hiyoshi Shinto shrine to the temple.

The scene of men wearing 14th century armor walking underneath a tunnel of autumn leaves surely delighted more than a few photographers and spectators.

Meanwhile, the Kumano Nachi shrine in Nachikatsuura-cho, Wakayama, held its own autumn leaves festival on 14 November. The shrine’s chief priest and about 20 parishioners dressed up in Heian period garb and gathered at the Mongaku falls downstream from the larger Nachi falls. They also recreated a historical scene involving the Chrysanthemum Throne, but this was more literary in tone than martial.

The group set afloat on the Nachi River some leaflets containing waka, or Japanese poetry, creating an autumnal tableau with the colors on the river surface echoing those of the trees.

This custom originated when the Kazan tenno abdicated the throne after ruling from 984-986 and became a Buddhist monk. Kazan, who is thought to have been mentally unstable, was conducting ascetic practices on Mt. Nachi when he was moved by the autumn leaves. This inspired him to write some waka, which he then collected and wafted onto the river.

Is that not an aesthetically overwhelming image?

A final ineffable sigh…before I go off in search of a good old-fashioned mikoshi wrecker for the next matsuri report!

Note: Be sure to click on the link for the Kumano Nachi shrine!

A millenium of elegant pursuits in Japan

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
- Oscar Wilde

WE’VE ALL SEEN THE NEWSPAPER PHOTOGRAPHS of young Japanese girls in thrall to the fashion extremes of baroquely decorated fingernails, sun lamp skin tones, white eye shadow, and hair the color of beach sand.

But we all know that the modern newspaper is to information what McDonald’s is to nutritious food, and the priority content for the dailies is still that old stand-by, the man-bites-dog feature.

Though it’s the truth that those girls and their male counterparts do exist, it isn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It’s just as true that there still exists here an active interest in an artistic milieu distinguished by a centuries-old sophisticated elegance. All you have to do to see it is point your camera in a different direction and look.

The following events held within the past 10 days are examples of what I mean.

Geisha Fashions

A historical fashion show was presented on the first of the month at Yoshino Park in Kagoshima City, featuring models dressed in the clothing of geisha from the Kanto and Kansai regions at the end of the Edo period (1603-1868). (Kagoshima is in the extreme southwest of the country, and not very close to either the Kanto [Tokyo] or the Kansai [Osaka] regions.)

An added treat was that the park’s cherries were nearing full bloom, so the visitors were able to combine the beauty of a hanami, or flower-viewing party, while drinking in the beauty of the outfits and the models.

The show consisted of two models exhibiting the Kanto outfits and two showing off the attire of their geisha sisterhood in the Kansai. Each was on view for 15 minutes apiece, giving the other three plenty of time to change clothes. (That’s essential with kimono.) Meanwhile, a local instructor in kimono dressing explained to the audience the characteristics of the two styles—including details down to the different methods for tying the obi, or belt—as well as the customs of the age.

Unlike contemporary fashion shows, the audience was allowed access to the models in costume after the show to take photos and to examine the patterns more closely. One woman in the audience, captivated by the experience, said that the kimono were even more gorgeous under the cherry blossoms. Now there’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth!

The Genji Show

The Tale of Genji (also on the right sidebar), commonly agreed to be the masterpiece of Japanese prose literature and the world’s first great novel, is now 1,000 years old. To commemorate its millennium, an event was held in Otsu, Shiga, where Murasaki Shikubu wrote the work at the Ishiyama Temple, which was established in 749. The opening ceremony was a fashion show at a hotel on the shore of Lake Biwa, featuring clothing worn by nobility during the Heian period (794-1185).

Afterwards, those in attendance were treated to a boat ride to the Ishiyama Temple—this is Japan, of course it still exists—to recreate a visit said to have been popular among the Heian nobles. That was followed by a colorful parade in front of the temple gate.

As part of the commemorative events a Genji Dream Gallery was set up on the temple grounds. On display were embroideries depicting famous scenes in the story and robots recreating the characters. This is Japan, of course there were robots!

Hanezu Dancing

Kyoto demonstrated yet again that it is still the capital of sophisticated elegance at the annual Hanezu Dance performed by 21 girls aged 10-12 at the Zuishin-in, a Buddhist temple in the city. Hanezu is said to be a word that describes the color of plum blossoms, which are the inspiration for the headgear the girls are wearing in the photo.

The dance is held to commemorate the early Heian waka poet Ono-no-Komachi, who seems to have been born up north in Akita (where a Shinkansen train and a variety of rice are named after her). She spent the last years of her life at the Kyoto temple, however, and is remembered for her erotic poetry.

The dance itself, which the girls performed four times, recreates the event for which Komachi is still best known. The high-ranking courier Fukukusa no Shosho was madly in love with her, and Komachi promised that she would become his lover if he visited her every night for a hundred nights. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

The courier came callling faithfully every night, but failed to make the date once towards the end. Some versions of the story have him becoming ill on the 99th night. The desperate lover was overcome with despair and died. And when Komachi learned of his death, she was overcome with sadness.

As well she might be! Zama miro, as some Japanese could have said–it served her right for playing that age-old game and missing out on the chance to find out just how good a man can be!

But the Japanese don’t say that—it’s just my old Western philistinism reemerging from hibernation. Instead, they’ve kept the story (and her poetry) alive, again for more than a millennium. In fact, novelist and butch militarist Mishima Yukio was so taken by the tale he adapted for the modern stage an older Noh play about her, called Sotoba Komachi. (Here’s a review of his version and here’s a text of the original.) And grade school girls dance in honor to this erotic poet on the grounds of a Buddhist temple that was founded in the year 991 and still exists today.

Really, the Christians, Jews, and Muslims don’t know what they’re missing!

Waka Drinking Party

While the female waka poets played games of love, their male counterparts used to indulge in elegant pursuits of their own, one of which was called kyokusui no en (or sometimes gokusui no en).

This palace amusement originated in China long ago, and became popular in Japan during–you guessed it–the Heian period. Here’s what happens: the poets gather by the side of a brook that passes through a garden. A cup of sake is filled, placed on a platform designed to look like a waterfowl, and floated down the stream. The poet must dash off a poem on the spot, in brush and ink no less, and must drink the sake if he fails to come up with a poem by the time the tray bobs by.

In other words, this is the world’s most cultured drinking game. Fortunately, waka are only 31 syllables long, or else there would be a lot of drunken louts lying on the grass with very little poetry to show for their efforts. (Which is what happened to a lot of Western poets, come to think of it.)

A kyokusui no en was reinstituted in 2001 to celebrate the 1,800th anniversary of the founding of the Ikuta Shinto shrine in Kobe in the year 201—yes, it still exists—and this year’s version was held earlier this week. The party consisted of poets in period costumes and about 300 visitors. The poets included seven members of the prefecture’s waka club and Ido Toshizo, the governor of Hyogo, all of whom wrote waka on the theme of the family.

Hey, if grade school girls can dance in honor of an erotic poet at a Buddhist temple, then grown men can certainly write poetry and drink at a Shinto shrine if they want!

Four different events in four different cities in fewer than 10 days…looks like a pattern to me!

If your taste runs to those girls with the gloopy fashion and makeup (and let’s face it, they wouldn’t resort to camouflage if they were all that attractive to begin with), then all I can say is, bon appétit! They aren’t the only game in town.

Postscript
A representative from the Japan Waka Club came to Kobe for the Kyokusui no En, and contributed the following poem before the sake cup floated by:

老いふたり
かそかに生くるわが家にも
光あれよと白梅の咲く

I might have the line breaks wrong on that. I pretty much stick to translating modern Japanese, not having much time to study the older forms of the language nor the talent for poetry. But it would be fun to see what someone else can come up with!

And don’t pass up the photos of the Ishiyama Temple!

Matsuri da! (76): Hoi! Hoi! It’s a hanami and matsuri both!

SOME FOLKS ARE CULTURAL PURISTS: for them, the value of traditions lies in maintaining them in the same form year in and year out. But that overlooks the many traditions that are born as hybrids to create something that isn’t inherently pure to start with. The Japanese, whose traditions are older and more diverse than most, often merrily mix and match from their vast cultural storehouse to come up with all sorts of marvelous creations.

One of those marvelous creations is the Minamisanno-sai, the spring festival held every 4 April at the Hie Shinto shrine in Hino-cho, Shiga. The sheer variety of events that are the centerpiece of Shinto festivals in Japan are a testament to the human imagination, and the Minamisanno-sai is no exception. What makes this festival unique?

A hanami, or a party while viewing cherry-blossoms! This time of year, friends and relatives throughout the country gather in public parks or private plots, large or small, day or night, to enjoy their favorite food and drink while sitting under cherry trees in full bloom. If it seems that a hanami is the type of pastime that would have appealed to the aristocracy centuries ago, then your cultural antennae are sensitive indeed. These elegant spring picnics were popular with the nobility during the Heian period (794-1185). Several centuries later, during the Edo period (1603-1867), the amusement spread to the public at large.

It was at that time that the common folk in Hino-cho came up with the idea to combine the pleasant diversion of a hanami, which has no religious significance whatsoever, with a Shinto festival. During the festival, the flowering cherries are symbolically offered to the divinities in supplication for a bountiful harvest. But how can entire trees become a religious offering every year?

They aren’t uprooted and transplanted because the trees are man-made. Each of the 22 districts served by the shrine makes a tree by attaching pink and white paper flowers to four-meter-long bamboo branches, called hoi, which are attached to five-meter-high bamboo poles. These representations of trees are then erected on the shrine grounds.

The paper and bamboo cherries are called Hoi Nobori, which has to be an intentional play on the term koi nobori, or carp streamers, the large tubular pennants resembling carp that will be hung next month to commemorate Boys’ Day on 5 May.

As you can see in the photo, cherry trees in bloom in the spring provide a good excuse for Japanese to camp underneath and start eating and drinking, whether the flowers are real or not. This year, there were about 400 happy campers in Hie-cho. Lucky for them that wasn’t a paper sun in a crayon blue sky!

Try this page for some more excellent photos of the event. It’s in Japanese, but don’t let that stop you from paying them a visit—the pictures do the talking.

Kicking the smoking habit in 19th century Japan

ONE OF THE FIRST no-smoking signs in Japan has been discovered in a Shinto shrine in Hokuto, Hokkaido.

Well, it’s not really a sign—it’s actually called an ema in Japanese, or votive tablet, and it hung in a local farmhouse about 120 years ago. Two young men wrote a prayer on it asking for the strength to swear off smoking. The tablet is 60 centimeters high and 30 centimeters wide, and contains a 50-centimeter-long kiseru, an old-fashioned pipe that was used to toke single hits of tobacco. The pipe is made from the wood of the Japanese angelica tree, otherwise known as aralia elata.

The tablet was found hanging on the wall of the main hall of the Fumitsuki Inari Shinto shrine, which was built in the early 19th century. If anyone knows how it got from the wall of a farmhouse to the wall of a Shinto shrine, they’re not talking. Also written on the ema is the date and the names of the two men who offered the dedication. It often happens in Japan that examining one aspect of a historical matter brings several others to light, and this is no exception–a little digging discovered that one of the men was the descendant of the first farmer to successfully cultivate rice in Hokkaido in 1692.

The local historian who found it (the 83-year-old gentleman on the right in the photo) observed that it was an interesting example of folk history that conveys the struggles people went through to give up the habit, and that it might be the first item of its kind found in Hokkaido. The historian, incidentally, has been visiting Hokkaido’s Shinto shrines since 1989 to examine about 500 of these tablets. According to the Japanese Tobacco and Salt Museum, several old votive tablets using kiseru have been discovered throughout the country, which leads them to believe it was once a custom to offer a prayer for some help in kicking the devil weed.

The Museum should know: take a look at this older post on the institution, or visit their website here or on the right sidebar.

Did the ema work? Who knows, but they were probably as effective as nicotine replacement therapy, nicotine chewing gum, nicotine patches, inhalers, nasal sprays, the prescription drug bupropion hydrochloride, videos, support groups, toothpicks, or beating the dog. Statistics show that 90% of the long-term smokers who quit did so by going cold turkey!

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.

Zen gardens

AN E-MAIL MESSAGE just came in from Clare G., with a link to an article at a site called Pro Traveller (”Travel hacks for the savvy traveller”). As you can tell from the title, the site provides information on tourism and travel. The article Clare brought to my attention is titled Top 20 Zen Gardens from Around the World, which you’ll find here. The title is a bit misleading–19 of the gardens are in Japan, with the sole exception located in Portland, Oregon.

Don’t let that stop you from checking out the article, however. The photographs are excellent, there are links to more photos, and there is an informative paragraph describing each of the gardens. The one I want to visit is the moss garden at Saiho-ji in Kyoto. Thanks to Clare for passing along the link!

Japan’s Okina-mai: The old man’s dance

THERE MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE WATER in Nara. Dancing isn’t usually an old man’s pastime, unless it’s a sedate fox trot at a senior citizen’s home or on board a cruise ship. But the performance of the Okina-mai—literally, the Old Man’s Dance—is almost as old as the hills in that city and is still performed today. It dates from the Nara period in the early 8th century.

As the name of the era suggests, Nara was where the action was in Japan in those days. Could the period have been so vibrant that even the old guys were inspired to trip the light fantastic?

It might have been, but it would be difficult to tell from watching the Okina-mai itself. The dance is thought to be the origin of Noh, the performance of which is rather stately and formalized. Now an important intangible folk and cultural treasure of the nation, the Okina-mai is performed annually every fall at the Narazuhiko Shinto shrine.

The story goes that the song-and-dance was first presented to cheer up the convalescing Kasuga’o, the son of the Imperial prince Shiki-no-miko, who himself was either the seventh or the third son of the Tenji tenno (emperor), depending on whose story you believe.

As you can see from the photo, the dancers wear masks, but that development didn’t occur until about 500 years later on during the Muromachi period. The Japanese have never been shy about playing around with their traditions–even ones that are 500 years old.

Today the Okina-mai is performed outdoors at night on the shrine grounds, with the site illuminated by small bonfires. That might well be another relatively recent development; if the story of the origin is true, it doesn’t seem likely that a convalescent would have been carried outdoors to watch an 8th century musical in the chilly autumn weather.

Then again, Okayama Zen’ichiro of Tenri University published an article in 2004 titled “On (the) Okina-mai Dance of Narazuhiko Jinja Shrine and Dongdong Koryo”. Unfortunately, the text of the article is not on line, but the latter seems to have been a Korean court dance. Is Prof. Okayama suggesting there are similarities? It might not be out of the question—there was a significant migration from the Korean Peninsula to the Nara area in the 8th century.

Be that as it may, you’ll find a brief explanation of the masks used in the dance with a photo here. (“Gigaku” in the text refers to an ancient mask show that was brought to Japan from China by a Korean musician, and let that be a lesson to you about East Asia!) And here’s a YouTube video showing the Okina-mai performed at a different location. (Note: It’s nine minutes long and the narration is in Japanese.)

Kasuga’o eventually recovered, but his brother was the one who went on to make a name for himself—he became the Konin tenno. And their father Prince Shiki made another contribution to Japanese history by composing six of the poems collected in the Manyoshu, the oldest existing anthology of Japanese poetry. (The most recent datable poem was written in 759.)

Last year’s performance of the Okina-mai attracted about 600 people. That’s a pretty good turnout to watch a 1,300-year-old-dance for old men!

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.