Japanese Weekend, Part II

I don’t know that I’ve made all that much progress with my GMAT study – I still can’t remember how to divide fractions – but, I figure there’s plenty of time for that next week, during layovers and sleepless flights on my way home. So, for now, I will continue to spin this tale of the perfect Japanese weekend. Let’s see, where was I . . .

Oh, yes, the matsuri . . . so we watched the parade and the sumo, and stuffed ourselves full of nutritious festival food before getting back on the road. We decided to take the long way to Sakurajima on some back roads that wind through mountains before spilling out onto the coastal highway. These foothills, albeit small, are quite lovely. Everything here is still so lush and green thanks to what I’m told is unseasonably warm weather and a late fall. Some leaves were getting their first tinge of color, but for the most part, the hillsides are still covered in blankets of thick, ripe foliage.

As soon as we reached the coast and turned north, we could see Sakurajima, its imposing figure rising out of the bay, smoke swirling around the summit. Last time I was here, the weather was cloudy, and since Sakurajima is always shrouded in its own smoke, it was impossible to get a clear view of this massive volcano. So, we were very lucky to be able to see it like this.

The last time Sakurajima erupted, just after the turn of the last century, the lava flow created a small bridge between the island and the mainland, which is why it is now possible to drive to the onsens and other tourist destinations. We crossed the bridge and drove about a quarter of the way around the island before we arrived at the ryokan.

Staying in a ryokan was on my list of things to do on this visit to Japan, so I was pleasantly surprised when Luke told me he had planned a stay at one of these traditional inns, no less at the base of a volcano!

When you arrive, they serve you green tea and let you relax in the lobby for a moment before a kimono-clad woman comes to take you to your room. We were greeted by an older lady dressed in a green kimono who was quite eager to share ryokan tradition with a couple of gaijin. She took us upstairs and opened our door to reveal a tiny foyer that led into a giant tatami room overlooking the bay. It was awesome! Definitely the coolest hotel room I have ever stayed in. She showed us where everything was, made sure that we had the right size yukatas and asked us what time we wanted to have breakfast and dinner before she left us to get settled.

Our room was set up with a large table – they come in while you’re at dinner to lay out your futons – and there were a couple of chairs by the balcony where you could sit and look at the view. There was a TV, too, which I didn’t expect, but everything in the room seemed really traditional, at least to me.

When you stay in the ryokan, you wear a yukata everywhere. It’s super relaxing to just chill out in this bathrobe-type garb. We changed into our purple yukatas and headed for the onsen. This particular onsen is coed, which is quite unusual. So, it’s obviously not nude, you get another yukata to wear in the bath.

We descended several flights of stairs and a funky sideways moving elevator to get down to the onsen. It’s right on the water, at the base of the cliffs, so you have to go down quite a ways to get to it.

This is, by far, the prettiest onsen I have ever been to – it’s a relaxing hot pool right in the bay, really, and it’s surrounded by big rocks and a huge tree that hangs over one side, creating a little grotto that houses a small shrine. We were down there at sunset, and the light was amazing! Not to mention, totally relaxing. We stayed in the pool for about an hour before heading upstairs for dinner.

Dinner is served in a big tatami dining room. We shuffled down there in our yukatas and slippers for a traditional Japanese meal. I have never really had a formal Japanese meal, so this was quite a surprise, and I got to try all kinds of things I’ve never had before.

The meal is served in several courses. There are a few things you would expect – pieces of sashimi, miso soup, rice, stuff like that – and lots of things that are kind of unusual. There was raw chicken, which I stayed away from, but I tried pretty much everything else. My favorite was the egg custard – it’s served hot in a little cup and it’s filled with vegetables and seafood. The shabu-shabu was good as well. I’d tried it before in Tokyo – it’s kind of like fondue. We also had some snails and a clam served on the half shell with this amazing sweet, buttery sauce. I think the last thing we got was a tempura dish. It was basically lots of little tastes of different things. I would guess that we were eating for about two or three hours. It goes on for a while.

We returned, totally full, to our room, which was laid out for sleeping. It was honestly a great night of sleep – the futons were so comfortable on the tatami and the duvets were so cozy. I was completely refreshed the next morning.

When we woke up, we headed down to the onsen again for an early morning soak. It was great because it was a little bit chilly and no one was really down there. Then it was time for breakfast, which was also totally traditional – rice, fish, miso, tea, egg and this funny little salad. I actually really like the breakfasts here. I think they’re pretty healthy and they keep you full for a little while anyway – at least as far as the next Lawson.

After breakfast, we packed up and headed out for a drive around the island. It was a beautiful day and we had amazing views of the volcano all the way around. We stopped at the visitor center to learn more about the volcano’s history and find out if they could predict the next explosion. I guess they can’t – personally I think it would be kind of stressful to live under that thing while it constantly rumbles. But, I guess people just sort of deal with it. And realistically, if it did erupt, it’s not like I would be much safer in Miyakonojo anyway.

Once we made it off the island, we plotted our journey home. There’s this restaurant I really like at the base of Kirishima, the volcano by Luke’s house, so we decided to go back to Miyakonojo by way of the cold soba. It is soooo yummy! I would go out of my way anytime to eat there – they have this bread that has a sweet red bean filling that I am absolutely addicted to. It’s delish!

And, so the perfect Japanese weekend came to an end. Between the matsuri and the ryokan and the sightseeing, I would say it was the quintessential Japanese experience. And, we made it home just in time for a nap.

Japanese Weekend, Part I

If there ever was a perfect Japanese weekend, this past few days was it for us. After lazing around Luke’s apartment on Saturday morning, we packed up and headed out for our ryokan (a ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn – tatami rooms, futons, yukata, onsens . . . stuff like that) stay on Sakurajima, the smoking volcanic island that rises dramatically out of Kagoshima Bay.

After settling in Luke’s car, getting dialed in with the Eagles football podcast, and stopping for water and snacks at Lawson, we were off. Yasue recommended that we stop at a festival taking place in a small town along the way. She thought it would be a good opportunity for me to have a rural matsuri experience.

So, we headed for Iwagawa, home to an absolutely humongous samurai sculpture – the backdrop of the town, really, and the icon around which the festival is celebrated. The sculpture is modeled after Sekune Takenouchi, who was the chief of the Old Imperial Guard, the leader of the Hyato tribe, which lived in the area from the fourth to the seventh century, A.D.

Every year all the townspeople gather to parade around a giant doll named Yagoro Don that symbolizes this great warrior. This doll wears a kimono and long and short swords and is wheeled through town on a rolling platform every November 3. So, we were really quite lucky to happen upon this matsuri.

And, our timing was perfect. We arrived in Iwagawa just in time to do all things matsuri before the parade rolled through and we headed off to Sakurajima. Our first stop in town was the great statue. It really is enormous. I imagine you can see it from miles away, as it’s perched on a hillside and stands who knows how high. There are several great photos that do much better justice to him than would my elementary descriptions of his robes and swords.

After hanging out at the statue, taking pictures from almost every angle – how very Japanese – and capturing some fairly epic Engrish on film, we headed down the hill to check out the matsuri.

I think this is maybe the third matsuri I have been to in Japan. They all have food and performances and a parade. But, this particular event stands out, one because I ate a really good donut while there, but also because of the variety and quality of the festival fare, not to mention the unusual, but impressive spectacles, and the enthusiasm of the crowd. This was a top-notch matsuri, to say the least.

I mentioned the donut, which was hot and sugary and amazing – definitely rivals any Krispy Kreme I have ever tasted. And of course, there was plenty of octopus on a stick, fried chicken, deep-fried bits of squid and fish, fries, corn on the cob . . . what else? I guess, pretty much your typical Japanese matsuri cuisine. That is, until we happened upon a giant, sizzling hunk of pork that Luke couldn’t walk away from. He debated his purchase for a few minutes, and undeterred by my comment that it could feed a large family, decided he had to experience this greasy delicacy. What can I tell you? He’s from Philly. And, while it appeared to me that most people were wrapping theirs up and taking them home, probably for dinner, Luke dove straight into this fatty brick. I declined his offer for a taste, and after a few satisfying, yet detestable bites later, Luke realized he could not conquer this block of bacon.

But, who am I to judge? I consumed two giant sno-cones, the size of my head, before we left the tiny town of Iwagawa. And, I get ahead of myself! Between slurps of cherry sno-cone and chews of fatty pork, we visited the shrine, also a central part of the festival, and watched some interesting displays of physical prowess.

Midway through my second sno-cone, we ventured into a dusty arena where several groups were performing various arts. Toward the middle of the grounds on both sides, kids and teenagers were standing in lines for inspection of some kind. I don’t really know what was going on there, because I was distracted one, by the judo contest, and two, by what appeared to be the youth sumo league. That’s right, a bunch of little fat kids sumo wrestling.

I’m not gonna lie, it was kind of shocking to see a bunch of little kids – boys only, of course – strutting around in those diaper-thongs (I realize this is very ignorant, but I don’t know what they’re really called, and while I know I could Google it, I think diaper-thong conveys better this visual). I personally felt like kind of a voyeur watching all of this – it seemed like such an outrageous, and really kind of illicit display, like cockfighting or something. It was weird. But we watched anyway, running frantically from the judo competition as soon as we saw the kids start to fight.

The kids seemed so unevenly matched – some of them were absolutely obese, while others were skinny little rails. And, of course, the fat kids always won.

Seeing that it was nearly time to get back on the road and head for the ryokan, we left the arena, just in time to see the parade go through. It was small, but lively and the performers were incredibly enthusiastic as they pounded on their drums and danced around the big doll. I think festivalgoers and participants alike were impressed to see a couple of gaijin taking part in a festival in their tiny town. And, if I ever find myself back on Kyushu on November 3, I will certainly go back to Iwagawa, if for nothing else than donuts and sumo.

Though this lengthy entry does not conclude the perfect Japanese weekend, part two will have to wait until I’ve studied more material for the GMAT exam.

Sayonara, Part II

And a later date it is. The whole point of my story is now moot. I was trying to explain how my return tickets were for different days. I was to fly out of Miyazaki on August 13 and then out of Nagoya on the 16th. But, as it turns out, I was able to get a flight back to the states right away, so no dillydallying in Nagoya for me – thank goodness!

I suppose that wraps up my trip to Japan. My last week was spent hanging out in Miyakonojo and taking some daytrips with Luke. This adventure culminated in the biggest festival of the year, the Bonchi Matsuri (they must have known I was leaving!). For such an occasion, Luke and I decided to wear traditional Japanese clothing – a yukata, or summer kimono, for me, and a jimbe for Luke.

I was fitted for a yukata at a local kimono shop with some help from Yasue. After trying on a few different patterns, I settled on a dark red robe covered in sakura, or cherry blossoms, and a marigold obi belt.

In preparation for the festival, I put my hair up, as you’re traditionally supposed to do, and left plenty of time to get dressed. I thought it would take me a while to arrange the yukata and conquer the challenge of tying the obi belt, but I managed fine, and we were off to the matsuri.

Luke arranged for us to dance in the parade with the Miyakonojo International Association. We had about 10 minutes to learn the two dances, which no one in the group was really able to pick up. It involved a fan, fancy footwork and a bunch of clapping. I wasn’t too worried, though, as we were in a sea of people, so no one would notice if we were out of step.

I attempted to dance for a little while, but eventually resorted to just sort of walking in the back while fanning myself, running off to the side, every now and then, to snap a photo of Luke looking totally perplexed as he tried to follow the dance leader.

After the parade, we sampled all the festival food and watched performances and drumming in the streets. It was a fantastic way to cap off my trip.

On Sunday, I bought a few last minute souvenirs and packed up before heading out for my last taste of real Japanese sushi – for a while anyway.

But no worries, I think there is more Japan in my future – hopefully sooner than later.

Gaijin dances, two dead

Arrival and going away parties seem to be a pretty big deal in this culture, which is why I found myself at yet another bon voyage occasion for a few of Luke’s coworkers. This time it was at the Kirishima Brewery/Beer Garden. Actually a really cool venue with a huge outside tent – perfect for parties. Lot’s of other people were there celebrating or just relaxing. It’s matsuri (festival) season here, so people are in high spirits and are very social. On this particular evening, the Kirishima Beer people were distributing prizes to people who wore their traditional garb, or yukata.

One small group of women seemed especially excited to be participating, and celebrated further with karaoke and a traditional dance. This tiny old woman kicked off her wooden flip-flops and performed an intricate series of steps and hand motions, in the middle of which, she decided that I would make an excellent addition to her repertoire.

All of a sudden I was yanked from my chair and thrust into the middle of the tent, much to the delight of the 70 or 80 half-drunk Japanese in the audience. I tried, vainly, to imitate her movements, but mostly succeeded in looking like an uncoordinated giant in contrast to the tiny women next to me.

Photos revealed that indeed, I was Neanderthalic at best, in my attempt. If you have the pleasure of viewing them yourself, perhaps the same headline will run through your head, “Gaijin dances, two dead.” It really looked like if I made a wrong move, I might have been responsible for the demise of a revered obachan (old woman).