Tokugawa Ieyasu, en su etapa como shogun

Nacido el 31 de enero de 1543 y fallecido el 1 de junio de 1616 en la provincia de Mikawa, Tokugawa Ieyasu pasó de ser un simple guerrero militar o samurái, hijo de un daymiō de poco prestigio; a ser el shogun y jefe del Japón feudal, el fundador del clan Tokugawa que gobernaría en paz hasta 1868 y uno de los personajes más importantes y reconocidos de la historia del país nipón desde sus orígenes hasta hoy día.

Mikawa, provincia situada en el centro de Honshu, isla principal y más grande del territorio japonés, es aquella que vio nacer a un joven Matsudaira Takechiyo en el seno del clan Matsudaira, familia vasalla del clan Imagawa. Los Imagawa, familia que se remonta al siglo XII, estaban liderados por Imagawa Yoshimoto. Los Oda, la otra familia enfrentada en la lucha por el poder, estaba liderada por Oda Nobuhide, padre de Oda Nobunaga. Este último fue un importantísimo líder militar, y el futuro rival de Tokugawa por el dominio del país. Ambos, cada uno desde su bando, fueron los protagonistas del final del Periodo Sengoku (1467-1568) o “periodo de estamos en guerra”.

Debido al vasallaje al que estaban sometidos los miembros del clan Matsudaira, Takechiyo fue llevado como rehén a Shizouka, concretamente al castillo de Sunpu, en donde fue criado y educado en las artes marciales y la guerra. Exceptuando una pequeña escaramuza en la que fue apresado por los miembros del clan Oda y liberado a la muerte de Nobuhide por los Imagawa mediante un pacto con su segundo hijo y sucesor en el mando Nobunaga, no se sabe nada de él hasta los trece años.

Es a esta edad cuando el joven Takechiyo pasa a ser Matsudaira Motoyasu, oficial al servicio de Yoshimoto, con el que había pactado su liberación y vuelta a Mikawa a cambio de que este peleara en algunas batallas como la de Terabe, la cual ganó contundentemente adquiriendo gran prestigio con su victoria. A partir de ahí los soldados de Mikawa junto con Matsudaira exigieron más independencia y libertad de movimiento al clan Imagawa.

En 1560 se produce la batalla de Okehazama, en la que se enfrentaron los Imagawa y los Oda y por la que, pese a su enorme superioridad (20 000 hombres frente a tan sólo 3 000), ganaron los segundos y en la que finalmente muere decapitado Yoshimoto. Motoyasu, aprovechó esta situación y la falta de poder suficiente para impedirlo y se liberó de la influencia de este clan. Pese a que se había independizado de éstos tuvo que pactar una alianza con los Oda para poder liberar a los muchos miembros de su propia familia que seguían encerrados en el castillo de Sunpu por Ujizane, el débil sucesor de Yoshimoto. Más tarde, durante el año 1573 se instauraría el peridodo Azuchi-Momoyama (1573-1603), llamado así por el emplazamiento en el que estaban los dos castillos protagonistas de este periodo (el castillo de Azuchi, clan Oda y el castillo de Momoyama, clan Hideyoshi, familia que se haría con el shogunato a la muerte de Nobunaga)

Del pacto nacido con los Oda, nació una relación bajo la que se amparó Matsudaira Motoyasu, quien, mediante una petición al emperador Ōgimachi, cambió nuevamente su nombre por el definitivo, además de fundar su propio clan. Tokugawa Ieyasu es como pasó a ser reconocido hasta el final de sus días. A partir de ahí, mediante diferentes pactos, juegos de poder y traiciones con algunos clanes importantes como Takeda, Kenshin o incluso los moribundos Imagawa fue ganando batallas y por ende, nuevos territorios que iba unificando bajo su orden y mando y con los que iba cobrando importancia a la vez que iba reforzando su poder e influencia junto con el clan Oda y los Hōjō, con los que ambos mantenían buenas relaciones hasta el punto de colaborar los tres en varias campañas.

En 1582, Akechi Mitsuhide, cabeza del clan Akechi, asesina a Oda Nobunaga haciendo que esta familia cayera en decadencia, pasando a ser durante el periodo Edo o también Periodo Tokugawa (1603-1868) simplemente un compendio de daymiōs de bajo status o hatamotos (oficiales de mayor rango al servicio del shogun durante el Periodo Edo, con capacidad para solicitar una audiencia directa con él). Debido a esto, Tokugawa Ieyasu pierde a su mayor aliado y protector. Por aquel entonces y tras la muerte de Oda, eran dos clanes los que competían por gobernar al país: Hideyoshi y Katsuie. Tras una cruenta batalla conocida como la batalla de Shizugatake, este último murió, por lo que Toyotomi Hideyoshi se convirtió en el nuevo shogun de Japón. Tokugawa, que se había mantenido al margen, se enemistó con Hideyoshi con el que tuvo serios enfrentamientos teniendo como aliado al hijo de Oda Nobunaga, Oda Nobukatsu. Ganó algunas batallas importantes a Toyotomi, como la campaña de Nagakute, lo que hicieron que firmaran la paz. Ieyasu se mantuvo apartado y no intervino en ningún asunto y Hideyoshi le dejó tranquilo, mientras intentaba unificar los restos que quedaban del país en manos de daymiōs independientes y trataba de conquistar Corea con la intención de llegar a China.

Hideyoshi, finalmente muere el 18 de setiembre de 1598. Este es el momento en el que Tokugawa Ieyasu se lanza a una carrera frenética al igual que otros daymiōos y señores de la guerra, con la intención de ocupar el hueco de shogun dejado por Hideyoshi Toyotomi. Esto desemboca en 1603 en la campaña de Sekigahara de la que sale vencedor tras la batalla de Sekigahara. A sus 60 años recibe el título de shogun de manos del emperador Go-Yozei e instauró su propio periodo que duro hasta la Restauración Meiji (1868). Trasladó la capital de Kyoto a Edo (actual Tokyo), supervisó la construcción del castillo de Edo y mantuvo relaciones diplomáticas y comerciales con España, Portugal y Países Bajos.

Su última amenaza antes de su muerte fue el heredero del clan Toyotomi, Hideyori, hijo de Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Autoproclamándose heredero del shogunato, fue reclutando un numeroso ejército de samuráis que no estaban de acuerdo con Ieyasu o no querían estar controlados por él. Así, poco a poco fue formando un poderoso número de hombres con los que pretendía marchar a Shizouka, tomar el castillo de Sunpu y matar a Tokugawa con el fin de que su clan ostentara el poder de nuevo.

Por otra parte, Tokugawa Ieyasu ya había mandado a sus tropas a invadir el castillo de Osaka, en donde residía Hideyori. El primer ataque fue conocido como “Asedio de invierno de Osaka”, en el que hizo un pacto con la madre de Hideyori, Yodogimi con lo que se lleno el foso que rodeaba el castillo de arena. Tokugawa instó a Hideyori a dejar el castillo, y cuando se negó por segunda vez a abandonarlo asedió el castillo, lo que se llamó como “Asedio de verano de Osaka”. El asedio duró hasta finales de 1615, con la muerte de todos sus habitantes, incluyendo la madre de Hideyori y su hijo.

Un año más tarde muere a la edad de 75 años, siendo deificado. Desde entonces y hasta ahora, sus restos se conservan en el templo Nikkō Tōsho-gū.

Enkoji temple (圓 光寺) is one of the nicer places to go for autumn maple-leaf viewing.  The temple was founded as a place for scholarship and learning in 1601 by Tokugawa Ieyasu.  It was originally in Fushimi, in the southern part of Kyoto, but in 1667 the temple was moved to its current location near the base of Mt. Hiei.  Enkoji has several gardens featuring beautifully sculpted maple trees and there’s a walking path that will take you through the temple graveyard and then up a hillside behind the temple complex where you can find some stunning views of Kyoto.  The buildings and gardens at Enkoji are perfectly laid out with the idea of ‘the view’ in mind.  At every corner, everywhere you turn, there’s a bit of framed visual splendor ready to catch your mind and slow it down.  It’s a place that, finally, demands that you notice everything — and everything you notice is quiet, beautiful, and somehow absolutely to the point.

(All photographs featured were taken during November of 2007.)

http://hu.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tokugava_Iejaszu

A portrait of Tokugawa Ieyasu after his defeat at Mikatagahara – azaz, volt olyan is, amikor nem győzött

http://www.tokugawa-art-museum.jp/planning/h20/03/obj01.html

Today the weather was perfect for a walk so I decided to head toward the Atago Shrine, a shrine which I have visited several times before but usually when it was dark. Today was the first time I went during the day and it was more of a pleasure to actually see the full splendor of the shrine on such a great sunny day.  The shrine was originally constructed way back in the early 1600s, under the order of the first Tokugawa shogun (Ieyasu) in order to protect the neighbourhood from fires. The main entrance is home to a rather grand set of stairs and it’s a pretty hefty work-out getting to the top!! However there are 2 other sets of stairs which lead to the main shrine so I used one of those to go down. If you like the Atago shrine you might also like to check out my post on the Hikawa Shrine located in Akaska, which I wrote the last time I was in Japan.

Some of the scenery on the way…

The shrine is actually near the NHK museum, which I wrote about a while back!

Outside the shrine…

close-up of the main stairs…

One of the guardian things by the stairs (I don’t really know what they’re called!! :S)

View from the top…

You can’t see it in the picture but entrance to this area is actually restricted by a gate which was locked, I zoomed in. I wonder if there is any significance behind that building…

A nice path to one side of the shrine, a much easier way of leaving than using the stairs at the front!!

An old sign located on the shrine grounds. I can’t read much, but it’s about smoking cigarrettes. The red characters to the left state that entrance is prohibited.

If you’re looking for a peaceful way to spend some time in Tokyo then I recommend checking out the Atago Shrine!!

Toshogu

After going to Rinnoji, it’s a short walk up a hill to reach Toshogu. Toshogu is the main attraction in Nikko. It is a large, fantastic, complex with intricate designs throughout. Upon entering the temple grounds, you’ll be greeted by the typical torii gate, but also a large pagoda. Rinnoji is a fairly traditional Japanese temple, simple. Toshogu is the polar opposite. The main pagoda has been likened to Chinese and Korean style temples. Lots of colour and various statues of animals adorn the rafters. This creates a very interesting style where people either love it or hate it. Many people have hated this because it isn’t “Japanese”, but that is a completely different argument altogether. However, upon entering the paid area of Toshogu, you’ll see a huge crowd of people gathering around a plain wooden building. It is very small compared to the surrounding buildings and it looks somewhat out of place. This is the famous Three Wise Monkeys (Hear no evil, Speak no evil, See no evil) building. It is the most famous image of Nikko. Three Wise Monkeys are three monkeys, one covering his ears, one covering his mouth, and one covering his eyes. There are other carvings around the building featuring monkeys in other situations, but by far, the Three Wise Monkeys are the most popular. From here, you will see a few black and gold structures along with several carvings of various exotic animals.

Three Wise Monkeys

There are several carvings of peacocks and some of elephants. Unfortunately, the elephants look nothing like an elephant, and several sculptures looked scary. Towards the back of the complex, you will see pretty much the same. There is a second area featuring the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu, for which Toshogu was built. The cost to enter is expensive, so I never bothered to enter. There is another famous carving of a sleeping cat, but I didn’t feel it was worth the extra 800 Yen. The last place to visit within the shrine is Yakushido Hall. It is a small building which can have lots of people lining up to enter. Within the main room, there is a painting of a dragon on the ceiling. One of the priests/monks will give an explanation about the hall and how banging two sticks of wood in the right place will allow you to hear the dragon’s cry. He will demonstrate that if you away from the centre, the two sticks will sound like normal. However, when he bangs the sticks in the right location within the room, it will echo and resonate to sound like a dragon’s cry. It was a very interesting demonstration, but pictures and video aren’t allowed.

Taiyuinbyo

After visiting Toshogu, you can head over to Futarasan and Taiyuinbyo.  Taiyuinbyo is another mausoleum, but this time it was built for Tokugawa Ieyasu’s grandson.  It is smaller in scale, and it isn’t as busy as Toshogu.  It isn’t as spectacular, but just as intricate.  There are more Shinto gods guarding the area, and it’s location at the base of a mountain makes it very picturesque.  I personally enjoyed this shrine more than Toshogu, but I was let down a little as many things were undergoing renovations.  After visiting Toshogu, however, there isn’t much to say about these two shrines.  They are typical shrines without anything extremely new or interesting to talk about.

Irohazaka

I would highly recommend that you rent a car when you go to Nikko. It is the easiest way to get to the distant locations, and you’ll have the freedom to head up to Lake Chuzenji. However, there are buses that head up and down the mountain to Lake Chuzenji, but you’ll be limited to when you can go. The road up to Lake Chuzenji is called Irohazaka. This road is famous among driving enthusiasts and street racers as it was featured in the anime/manga Initial D. The name is derived from the 48 hairpin corners that made up the original road. Iroha is the name of the 48 letters of the Japanese alphabet. Currently, there are two roads going to Lake Chuzenji. Both are one way. One heads up, the other down. Going up this road, there are two lanes. You’ll be able to see a few exotic cars and some motorcycles as they race uphill. Going downhill, there is only one lane, but you’ll see the same cars, only they’ll be going much slower than before. This road is also extremely famous in the autumn season as the leaves turn a bright red, orange, and yellow. It’s not uncommon for this road to be backed up, taking three or four times longer to travel than other season.

Kengon Falls

Lake Chuzenji itself isn’t that spectacular. Near the end of the uphill portion of Irohazaka, you can pay to take the gondola up to a lookout point. From here, you will be given beautiful views of Nikko, Lake Chuzenji, and Kegon Falls. Around the lake, you can do all of the normal things you would do at any lake. Swimming and taking a “swan boat” onto the water is popular. There are also many shops in the area that let you try Nikko’s famous food, tofo “skin”. Beware that during the winter months, most of the shops are closed due to the lack of visitors. The main attraction would have to be Kengon Falls. Standing at 98 metres tall, this waterfall is one of the tallest in Japan. Taking the elevator to the base of the waterfall is recommended as you may be able to see some Japanese mountain goats and you can have a better view of the falls. Note that in the winter months, it’s extremely cold, so dress warmly.

Lake Chuzenji

If you decide to spend a day or two in Nikko, hiking around Lake Chuzenji is very famous, and there are various hot springs in the area. Kinugawa is a famous hot spring resort town that is a short drive from Nikko. You may also be able to see a few monkeys running around. Beware that the monkeys can be aggressive, so keep a little distance and be aware of them if they are coming towards you.

Note:  This is part II of a II part series.  For part I, please see last weeks post.

このblogは英語のblog。もし私の英語は難しい、日本語のquestionは大丈夫。

マンツーマン英会話が1時間2000円! 格安 英会話レッスンはIHCWAYで決まり!

My second day trip was north into Tochigi prefecture to visit the shrine/temple complex of Nikko.  Nikko is the resting place of the shogun who began the Tokugawa shogunate, Tokugawa Ieyasu and his grandson Iemitsu.

The main precincts of Nikko are primarily Shinto but Nikko was established in 766 by the construction of Rinno-ji.  The town eventually grew up around the temple grounds.  The main shrine (Toushou-gu) was constructed in 1617 to honour Ieyasu.

Personally, I prefer the grounds around Rinno-ji though partly due to both Ieyasu and Iemitsu being interred in Toushou-gu, it’s by far the more popular for the tourists.  It’s interesting in another way though -  its design and decoration are much more of a Chinese style than any other Shinto shrine in Japan.

The ride to and from was long but nice.  I decided to take the slightly longer but much less expensive option of the rapid (kaisoku) versus the special rapid (tokkyu).  The time added was about 30 minutes there and about an hour return but it was ¼ the price of the tokkyu.  I can live with being on a comfy train for a bit extra to save that amount of cash.  It was also nice to see Mt. Fuji again in its snow-capped glory in the morning and in red-hued silhouette at sunset.

The unthinkable happened while photographing around Rinno-ji in the morning: my Hasselblad jammed!  Thankfully I bring back-up cameras with me but I was not impressed at the time.  At first, I thought maybe it was the weather since it was around zero but I’d used in in minus 10 degree temps in Turkey last year.  It turned out to just need servicing but I wouldn’t find that out until I got back to Hong Kong.

I liked Kamakura better than Nikko particularly if you factor in the amount of effort to get to Nikko.  I’m sure I’ll return in the future.  Being in the mountains, I bet fall with the change in colours would be pretty amazing.

他の日帰りは日光に行きました。東京から快速で行きました。特急でもう少し速いですけれどもっと高いです。片道の値段は５５００円です。快速電車の値段は１３２０円です。快速は大丈夫と思いました。富士山を見ました。きれいでした。たくさん雪がありました。浮世絵らしいと思いました。

いい天気でしたけど寒かった。となりの山は雪がありました。きれいだった。実は休み間に雪が見たかった。香港にぜんぜん雪は降らないですから。

悪い事がありました。写真を撮る間に僕のハセルブラドカメラは壊れました。香港に帰った時に直したけどその時信じられなかった。理由は古いカメラだと思います。大体大丈夫ので他カメラがありました。

日光が好きだったけど鎌倉のほうが好きだった。でも、将来もう一回行くと思います。日光の紅葉はきれいでしょう。

(nel titolo: Ōsaka-jō, cioè “Il castello di Ōsaka”)

Era un po’che non pubblicavo post sul viaggio a Kyōto ed Ōsaka che ho fatto qualche tempo fa (le puntate precedenti qui, qui e qui), e, visto che riordinare le fotografie del viaggio – grazie ad un errore che ho fatto nel settare l’orario della macchina fotografica – si sta rivelando un’impresa, pensavo di rinverdire gli antichi fasti.

La terza tappa del viaggio è stato il castello di Ōsaka, famoso non tanto per la costruzione in sé per sé quanto per la sua tormentata storia e per il panorama che offre.
Costruito nel 1585 da Toyotomi Hideyoshi, venne distrutto da Tokugawa Ieyasu appena 30 anni dopo, per poi essere ricostruito ancora una volta nel 1620, incenerito da un incendio nel 1665, ricostruito nel 1843 e ri-incenerito da un incendio nel 1868, per poi essere ricostruito in cemento nel 1931, danneggiato dai bombardamenti del 1945 e, finalmente, restaurato nel 1997 per (diciamo, tanto per essere scaramantici, per ora) l’ultima volta.

ecco come si presenta dal lato della stazione della linea di circonvallazione di Ōsaka

Come avrete intuito, dunque, l’edificio non ha nulla di interessante dal punto di vista costruttivo né da quello storico: ciò che resta di originale sono le mura, con i loro blocchi di pietra enormi; ed il parco che circonda il castello, oasi di verde nel cemento di Ōsaka.

Per questo, la vista che si gode dal castello è piuttosto spettacolare, e consente di ammirare, sebbene non da una posizione altissima, molti dei più importanti punti di Ōsaka, in particolare lo “Ōsaka business park”, i cui grattacieli spuntano come funghi: nella mia guida turistica del Giappone, stampata 5 anni fa, c’è un panorama scattato dall’alto del castello di Ōsaka, nel quale però mancano 3 grattacieli che sono stati costruiti nel frattempo!
Questo è uno di quelli:

la nuova e futuristica sede della NHK, la locale RAI... beh, che ve lo dico a fare, la qualità - degli edifici come delle trasmissioni, è di un altro pianeta... ma vabbè, in fondo ce lo si poteva aspettare!

Questa foto, anche se non mostra nulla di particolare, la metto solo per darvi un’idea di cosa intendano i giapponesi quando dicono “ad alta densità di popolazione”…:

Ōsaka ed i suoi edifici

Gli edifici sono letteralmente uno addosso all’altro, dando l’impressione di mangiarsi l’un l’altro: un vero e proprio mare di cemento. In effetti, rispetto alle nostre città, il cemento “vivo” è assolutamente dominante: nulla supera il cemento armato, quando si tratta di dover creare edifici sia grandi che resistenti ai terremoti.
Questo è lo “Ōsaka Business Park”, e quell’edificio ovale che si intravede in basso è la “Panasonic Hall”, una sala conferenze/concerti creata dalla Panasonic come showroom della sua tecnologia (in effetti, la Panasonic, che qui si chiamava National fino a due mesi fa, è la dominatrice incontrastata del mercato di elettronica/apparecchiature elettriche giapponese):

mannaggia alla protezione anti-suicidio!

Questa non ha bisogno di molti commenti… è la classica foto di rito, col castello sullo sfondo:

eccoci sotto il castello ed un cielo finalmente blu

Ed una delle vedute che preferisco, quella che mette in luce la struttura del tetto:

il castello da una prospettiva diversa

Per concludere, alla fine l’Ōsaka-jō non è splendido, l’interno non è da castello giapponese, le decorazioni d’oro sono pacchiane (ma c’erano anche nell’originale), la struttura intera è troppo sbrilluccicante… insomma, ha tutte le controindicazioni delle copie paragonate agli originali. Resta comunque un esempio di forma di castello giapponese ed un buon punto panroramico… ma, se avete tempo, visitate lo Himeji-jō, perché è tutt’un’altra cosa! Dunque: un must se passate per Ōsaka (anche perché la mostra interna su Tokugawa Ieyasu è molto ricca ed interessante), ma non un must assoluto.

@Cinciamogia (vedi come sono bravo, io ti penso sempre!! ), la foto del pesciolone dorato!

il pesciolone dorato! 鯱

Per chi non avesse l’occhio bionico, accanto a “pesciolone dorato” c’è scritto

“鯱”

Ovvero, “Shachihoko” (si può leggere anche “Shachi”, ma in questo caso è uno “shachihoko”!), ovvero – secondo mia madre – un pesce leggendario con la testa di una tigre ed il corpo di un pesce. A ben vedere, la testa della tigre la si può intravedere, anche nella mia fotografia (a me sembrava un dragone!)… solo se la cercate sapendolo.

A presto!

Happy Birthday, Toyohara-san!!!

Nodame Cantabile

のだめカンタービレ

images from episodes 8 & 9

ooooo

Imoto yo

妹よ

images from episodes 1 & 2

ooooo

Seibutsu suisei WoO

生物彗星 WoO

images from episode 7

ooooo

Tokugawa Ieyasu | 徳川家康 | episode 28

Label | ラベル

Home Page

• title corrected & information updated for Komori seikatsu kojo kurabu
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• updated & corrected 2008 film & drama credits
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If you’ve ever seen an episode of Dragon Ball Z you’ll know what I mean when I say “gravity-defying hair.” Fluttering against the wind, Goku’s golden locks pack as much punch as his iron fist.

So take Goku and multiply him by about 3 million and there you’ll have the young male population of Japan. Unlike in the U.S., guys aren’t afraid of moussing up their mane at the risk of looking girly. Wax, gel, spray, bleach — hair products of all kind sell big. In fact, not using them is a telling sign that you don’t care about presentation. Perhaps you’re an otaku (geek) whose only friends are online, or maybe you’re the dreaded hikikomori (isolationist) who never ever leaves his room. Not even to pee. Either way, you’re not getting chicks. …Well, unless you’re Densha Otoko.

And if Japan were to elect a fashion muse it would be boy-band member Takuya Kimura (Kimu-Taku for short). The smoking hot singer may be past his youthful prime (he’s 35; most boy-bands still can’t grow facial hair), people still look to him for what’s in vogue. When I was living in Japan, guys would catch him on TV then go out and get his ‘do. So everywhere I went I’d see Kimu-Taku clones struttin’ their stuff around like they ‘da man. They were all so cute, like collectible toys.

Kimu-Taku does well for himself just on selling hair products alone. Recently, you can find him in commercials (called “CM” in Japanese) promoting Gatsby hair products:

He does a whole series of CMs all of which are just as cheesy, glamorous and ultra flaming. One thing for sure, Japan has ventured a long way from its macho-man Samurai roots. Tokugawa Ieyasu must be turning in his grave. Personally I think it’s pretty cool. Just think, in a few more years you’re gonna start losing your hair anyway. So why not have fun with it while it’s there? (^_^)/

Himawari

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If you’ve ever seen an episode of Dragon Ball Z you’ll know what I mean when I say “gravity-defying hair.” Fluttering against the wind, Goku’s golden locks pack as much punch as his iron fist.

So take Goku and multiply him by about 3 million and there you’ll have the young male population of Japan. Unlike in the U.S., guys aren’t afraid of moussing up their mane at the risk of looking girly. Wax, gel, spray, bleach — hair products of all kind sell big. In fact, not using them is a telling sign that you don’t care about presentation. Perhaps you’re an otaku (geek) whose only friends are online, or maybe you’re the dreaded hikikomori (isolationist) who never ever leaves his room. Not even to pee. Either way, you’re not getting chicks. …Well, unless you’re Densha Otoko.

And if Japan were to elect a fashion muse it would be boy-band member Takuya Kimura (Kimu-Taku for short). The smoking hot singer may be past his youthful prime (he’s 35; most boy-bands still can’t grow facial hair), people still look to him for what’s in vogue. When I was living in Japan, guys would catch him on TV then go out and get his ‘do. So everywhere I went I’d see Kimu-Taku clones struttin’ their stuff around like they ‘da man. They were all so cute, like collectible toys.

Kimu-Taku does well for himself just on selling hair products alone. Recently, you can find him in commercials (called “CM” in Japanese) promoting Gatsby hair products:

He does a whole series of CMs all of which are just as cheesy, glamorous and ultra flaming. One thing for sure, Japan has ventured a long way from its macho-man Samurai roots. Tokugawa Ieyasu must be turning in his grave. Personally I think it’s pretty cool. Just think, in a few more years you’re gonna start losing your hair anyway. So why not have fun with it while it’s there? (^_^)/

Himawari

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Three images from episode 28 of the 1983 NHK taiga Tokugawa Ieyasu, which was Toyohara’s television debut (he’d already debuted in film in 1981/82 with Isami). He portrayed Ii Naomasa, who made his initial claim to fame in his early 20’s at the Battle of Komaki-Nagakute (1584), which begins at episode 27.

image page

Still trying to get to specific information about which episodes he was in. So far I know he’s in episodes 27-29. Also trying to get complete videos of his episodes. Managed to grab these images from a damaged video.

Dando seqüência aos períodos da história cronológica do Japão:

Período Muromachi 1333 – 1573 – Breve retorno do imperador ao poder. Frágil domínio do xogunato Ashikaga com intermináveis lutas entre os senhores feudais. Introdução do zen-budismo e chegada dos portugueses ao Japão. Diversificação da economia e do comércio, aarte começa a se diferenciar da chinesa, começando a criar a estética japonesa.

Período Azuchi-Momoyama 1573 – 1603 – Período de reunificação do Japão, através dos xóguns Oda Nobunaga e Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Em 1975, pela primeira vez, Oda Nobunaga usa armas de fogo durante batalha. Toyotomi Hideyoshi proíbe o uso de armas pelos camponeses, realiza o censo fundiário para levantamento das áreas de cultivo de arroz e eficiência na arrecadação de impostos e inicia o processo de expulsão dos católicos.

Período Edo 1603 – 1868 - Tokugawa Ieyasu consolida o poder militar, persegue os critãos, expulsa os comerciantes estrangeiros (só permite chineses e holandeses, no porto de Nagasaki), iniciando a política de isolamento.

Período Meiji 1868 – 1912 - Mudanças no poder imperial, tratado de amizade com várias nações (inclusive com o Brasil, em 1895) e medidas de modernização como abolição dos feudos, extinção dos samurais, criação do Banco Nacional, de vários ministérios, promulgação da Constituição, do Código Civil, entre outras.

Período Taisho 1912 – 1926 – Participação na Primeira Guerra, continuidade da política de expansão territorial, revoltas internas devido a alta do preço do arroz e crise agravada pelo grande terremoto que atinge Tóquio. Emigração em massa para o Brasil.

Período Showa 1926 – 1989 – Denominado de paz luminosa, foi marcado pelo nacionalismo exarcebado e intensa campanha de expansão do Império, resultando em derrota na Segunda Guerra. E, também, pela recuperação econômica, ao conquistar entre outros feitos, o título de maior produtor global de carros.

Período Heisei 1989 – aos dias de hoje.

Leia Japão à seu tempo – parte 1, aqui.

New Years at a Japanese Temple
Prayers, Fires, and Rice Cakes ring in the New Year at Zojo-ji in Tokyo

Old and New Japan blending together

Celebrating the Japanese Emperor’s Birthday
Japan’s Emperor: Man and Institution

Well-wishers wave Japanese flags in honor of the Emperor’s birthday.

Emperors tried to keep some control of state by creating the office of the Cloistered Emperor, which was an abdicated emperor in the robes of a Buddhist monk. It was often the custom for emperors to abdicate young — sometimes they were pressured to do so. Ironically, though, an ex-emperor often had more freedom and power than a “ruling” emperor.

Kikyo Gate
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Often Overlooked Odawara Part 2
A Castle Town celebrates its former glory

Odawara Castle, now a modern reconstruction housing a museum

A Hojo Warlord makes his entrance

Kodai-ji temple was founded in 1605 by Kita-no-Mandokoro (popularly known as Nene), the wife of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, in memory of her late husband. It was heavily financed by Tokugawa Ieyasu, “Hideyoshi’s chief vassal and later Shogun of Japan” (from the pamphlet). While the provenance of Kodai-ji is interesting, its most striking aspect is its beautiful gardens, gardens that are so extensive that the temple buildings themselves seem a bit displaced in grandeur. More at home in these gardens are Kodai-ji’s four famous teahouses, two of which were designed by Sen-no-Rikyu, the famous teamaster who is credited with establishing the Japanese tea ceremony as it’s known today. The first of the teahouses that you walk past at Kodai-ji is the lovely Onigawara-seki, pictured above.

Since Kodai-ji is currently a Rinzai sect Zen temple, it cannot be without its sand garden. Though I haven’t seen it at night, I’m sure that moonlight viewing is best.

This is the Kaisan-do, which is dedicated to the memory of Sanko Joeki, Kodai-ji’s founding priest. According to the pamphlet, “The ceiling in the front part of the building originally belonged to Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s private ship; the colored ceiling to the center was constructed of materials from Kita-no-Mandokoro’s court carriage.” I’m not sure whether or not the ceiling that Jess and were looking at belonged to the carriage or the ship, but the circular flying white dragon motif was pretty spectacular.

This is the section of the Garyoro, or “Reclining Dragon Corridor,” that crosses the pond behind the Kaisan-do. The Garyoro connects the Kaisan-do with the Otama-ya, and its name stems from its resemblance to a reclining dragon.

The Otama-ya (or “Sanctuary”) is the memorial hall in which Toyotomi HIdeyoshi and Kita-no-Mandokoro are enshrined. Their wooden images can be seen at the rear of the hall, one on each side of an intricately lacquered shrine. This view of the roof joints should give some idea of the intricate detail that has gone into the construction of the Otama-ya.

This is the Kasa-tei (just think “Casa Tea”), designed by Sen-no-Rikyu.

A closer view of Kasa-tei’s thatched roof.

This rare two-story teahouse, also designed by Sen-no-Rikyu, is known as the Shigure-tei. The Shigure-tei and Kasa-tei are connected by an outside corridor.

Kodai-ji is located in the Higashiyama, or ‘Eastern Mountain,’ section of Kyoto. As such, it has some pretty steep slopes. By the time you finish your tour at the Rikyu-designed teahouses, you’ll have gained quite a bit of elevation. You can work off your elevation by walking downhill through this beautiful bamboo grove.

Just as Jess and I were leaving the temple grounds, we spotted this great peach tile. It’s the only one I’ve seen in all of Japan.

Okay, I admit it! There’s actually no picture of Toshogu Shrine (東照宮) itself here. But there is this lovely picture of the Kanei-ji pagoda taken from the shrine grounds. In fact, the main shrine building is quite beautiful, but it was being very unphotogenic on this rainy, gloomy day.

Toshogu is a shrine dedicated to Tokugawa Ieyasu, founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate. It was established in 1627 and, since it avoided being bombed during the war, is one of the few original Edo period structures still standing in Tokyo.

Some of the 200 stone lanterns donated to the shrine by daimyo (feudal lords) during the Edo period.

There is a peace monument at Toshogu Shrine, dedicated to the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The English language plaque next to the monument reads as follows:

The Origin of the ‘Flame of Hiroshima and Nagasaki’

On August 6, 1945, US forces dropped the world’s first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, and another on Nagasaki on August 9 the same year, claiming the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in an instant. Even now, many survivors are still suffering from the damage.

Sometime later, Tatsuo Yamamoto went to Hiroshima in search of his uncle, and found a flame of the atomic bomb burning in the ruins of his uncle’s house. He brought it back to Hoshino-mura, his hometown in Fukuoka prefecture. He kept it burning in his house as a memento of his uncle and an expression of his resentment. But years went by, the meaning of the flame turned into a symbol of his desire for abolition of nuclear weapons and for peace. Hosino-mura village build a torch and transferred the flame to it on August 6, 1968. It has been keeping the flame ever since as the flame for peace, with the support of the villagers.

‘The use of nuclear weapons will destroy the whole human race and civilization … The elimination of nuclear weapons … has become the most urgent and crcucial for the very survival of the whole of humanity. There must never be another Hiroshima anywhere on earth. There must never be another Nagasaki anywhere on earth.’ (From the ‘Appealfrom Hiroshima and Nagasaki’ issued in February 1985)

In 1988, a flame was taken from the torch and was merged with another flame lit by the friction of broken roofing tiles of Nagasaki. Along with 30 million signatures collected in support of the ‘Appeal from Hiroshima and Nagasaki,’ it was carried to the third Special Session of the UN General Assembly for Disarmament taking place in New York City.

In April the same year, members of “Shitamachi People Association” put forward an idea of lighting the flame at the precinct of Ueno Toshogu Shrine in Tokyo. Rev. Shozen Saga, the chief priest, warmly welcomed the proposal, and promised to set up a monument and work together to keep the flame burning.

In April 1989, an ‘Association for the Flame of Hiroshima & Nagasaki Lit at the Ueno Toshogu” was founded with the people of wide ranging people. Tens of thousands of people took part in the fund-raising for over one year and the construction of the monument was completed on July 21, 1990.

In commemoration of the 45th year of the A-bomb tragedies, a flame of Hiroshima was taken from Hoshino-mura and lit at the monument on August 6, and a flame of Nagasaki, generated by the friction of Nagasaki roofing tiles, was also added to the monument.

We, hereby pledge to keep burning the A-bomb flame, convinced that this monument should contribute to strengthening the worldwide people’s movement to abolish nuclear weapons and achieve peace, which is the most urgent task for the people across the borders.

The dove in the center is flanked by strings composed of thousands of brightly colored paper cranes.

On the first of February, Bill Weinberg took the fast train down from Tokyo to spend a few days in the Kansai region. Weinberg, who my colleague and neighbor Richard first came into contact with via the internet, is the author of Homage to Chiapas: The New Indigenous Struggles in Mexico, among other books. He writes for numerous publications (including The Nation, where I’ve read at least one of his articles), he runs The World War 4 Report (a tremendous site dealing with contemporary politics), he’s the former news editor of High Times, and he’s the host of WBAI’s cult radio show, The Moorish Orthodox Radio Crusade. In fact, it turns out that Weinberg and I have a small connection — The Moorish Orthodox Radio Crusade used to be hosted by Peter Lamborn Wilson (a.k.a. Hakim Bey), author of the legendary (and infamous) T.A.Z. (Autonomedia). I had a chance to meet Wilson briefly sometime in the early 90s when I used to attend summer sessions at the Naropa Institute’s Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, where my grandmother, Bobbie Louise Hawkins, is a member of the faculty. Wilson gave an incredible talk in which he traced the “rationalism” of Newton’s theory of gravitational attraction to the Hermetic belief that the pull between celestial objects is based on the cosmic principle of erotic attraction.

In any case I was excited to meet Weinberg, who had been flown to Tokyo so speak at an anti-war conference — sponsored by Japan’s Movement for Democratic Socialism — that focused on the civil resistance in Iraq. He and Richard had been in email correspondence, and Richard invited him to come down to the Kansai region and stay for a couple of days. On Bill’s first day here Richard and Michelle showed him around Osaka, but since Richard was recovering from a wicked cold bug, he asked me if I could show Bill around Kyoto the next day (which I was more than delighted to do). Bill ended up spending the night at my house and we ended up having a latish night of Okinawan music and emo shochu, which is the perfect way to prime the pump for a trip to Kyoto. After a bit of discussion and some logistical juggling we decided that a trip to Nijojo, the palace complex founded by Shogun Togukawa Ieyasu, was the best option.

Nijo Castle was built in 1603 by Ieyasu and finished in 1626 by the third Shogun, Iemitsu. In 1867 the last Tokugawa Shogun resigned at Nijo Castle in front of the Meiji Emperor and the castle was turned over to the Imperial family. In 1939 it was donated to the city of Kyoto and opened to the public. The Nijojo complex now consists of two primary structures. The Ninomaru Palace (Ieyasu’s residence), is located within the area of the palace grounds surrounded by the outer moat, and the Honmaru Palace, which is usually closed to the public, is located in the area of the palace grounds surrounded by the inner moat. It was really exciting to tour Nijojo with someone who has a background in both socialist economic theory and the cultural history of indigenous peoples (including the worldwide indigenous struggle against internal imperialism). The thing that’s so interesting about Nijojo Castle is that it’s both an incredible monument to the international circulation of aesthetic practices and their transformation within new cultural and political contexts, and it’s the material expression of an incredible accumulation of capital. In fact, the Tokugawa Shogunate was predicated on the control of vast amounts of resources and capital — so much so that Osaka’s merchant culture can be traced back to the Shogunate’s complete control of the rice trade and the centralization of that trade in the Osaka region. By controlling the distribution of rice, as well as the movements of almost every individual in the Japanese archipelago, the Togugawa Shogunate was able to retain their hold on power for some 250 years. It’s important to remember that the incredible aesthetic experience of wandering the grounds of Nijojo, which really is like entering another world, is a completely calculated effect — the grounds of Ieyasu’s palace were designed to create a place like nothing else on earth, a place where you could not help but feel the power of the Shogun and yet at the same time become enveloped in the enrapturing beauty of the place. Of course, as Marx is always quick to point out, the capital accumulation that leads to bourgeois culture in Europe is also the source of rapid growth in artistic, aesthetic, and intellectual production. The same effect can be seen in the Kano School paintings that line the walls of the Ninomaru Palace — these ravishing paintings of pines, bamboo, cranes, tigers, hawks, and other animals — all against a background of gold leaf — are the products of an incredible system of artistic patronage that gets its source of funding from the brutal and uncompromising control of the distribution of food resources.

Of course, history aside, Nijojo is a phenomenal aesthetic experience in its own right. One of the most amazing things about the Ninomaru palace, aside from its visual appearance, are the sounds it generates. The inner rooms of the entire palace are surrounded by the so-called Nightingale Floor, a wooden floor designed with a hidden clamp and nail system that causes the floor to squeak when you walk on it. But the floor is so well tuned that the squeak ends up sounding like some sort of alien birdcall, rather than a sick floorboard. Walking across the floor is like walking through a forest of birds. I think an amazing project would be to walk through the Ninomaru with several people and a digital recorder, creating a slow footstep orchestra of birdsong. Of course, this is the perfect example of the way in which aesthetics can be repositioned in different historical contexts. During the height of Ieyasu’s power, the sounds of the Nightingale Floor would always have been associated with the question of assassination and military power, but now the floor can be imagined as a kind of avant-garde instrument — a palace organ of birds. In addition to the birdcalls in the flooring, there are also the birds painted on the walls by the Kano School painters — wonderful ducks, hawks, cranes, sparrows, and other birds. There are tigers and leopards as well, which look strange and distorted because the painters only had a couple of mangy skins to use as templates. All the hallways are also lined with beautifully designed wallpaper, which looks surprisingly contemporary, as if it were designed during the 1940s. The most amazing visuals in the Ninomaru Palace, however, are to be found right over your head. As you walk through the palace, you are also walking under a field of almost psychedelic flowers that look precisely like the artistic product of the terminus of the Silk Road — brightly colored blossoms that look like they might come from Persia, India, or China, rather than from any sensibility that is normally associated with Japanese aesthetics.

After squeaking our way through the palace, we strolled through the beautiful sculpturality of the Ninomaru and Honmaru gardens and walked up and around the stone walls that circle the palace complex as a whole. At that point, Bill had limited time so we had the choice of either hanging around the palace grounds some more and relaxing, or of running to catch another tourist attraction in Kyoto. We decided to go for tea. On one side of the palace grounds there’s a small teahouse with a veranda that looks out onto a perfectly framed view of the Seiryu-en garden. For 700 yen we were able to take our shoes off, sit on tatami mats, drink rich green macha tea, and eat freshly made wagashi (tea sweets). I highly recommend it.

Nijojo’s bansho, or ‘guardhouse.’

The main entrance of the Ninomaru Palace.

A view of the Ninomaru Garden, which is behind the Ninomaru Palace. The grass is a lovely yellow color because it’s winter in Japan, and very cold. If you look closely you can see gardeners at work on the island. Off to the right of the photograph you can see some straw-colored, seemingly sculptural elements at work. This is actually a palm tree that is wrapped in a winter sweater.

Another view of the Ninomaru Garden.

The entrance gate of the Honmaru.

The view from the teahouse verandah. The teahouse we had tea at is called Waraku-an, and the view in the photograph is of Koun-tei (a second teahouse) and the Seiryu-en garden, which was constructed in the ancient year of 1965 as a facility for official guests of the city of Kyoto.

An interesting Wikipedia entry dealing with the history of socialist politics in Japan.

Type this

http://archive.wbai.org/files/mp3/060208_000000morc.MP3

into your podcast finder to listen to an account of Bill’s trip to Japan, as well as some Okinawan music that I passed on to Bill for The Moorish Orthodox Radio Crusade. Or, if that doesn’t work, you can get to it by navigating through the MORC archives page.