Deutschland hat mich wieder und seit Montag bin ich in der Praxis aktiv, wo ich soooo lieb von meinen Kolleginnen empfangen wurde, dass fast Freudentränen gekullert waren. Drum möchte ich diesen Bericht meinen Mädels widmen. “Das Chef” würde sagen, DIESES ist ein ganz BESONDERER Bericht… der LETZTE (<= Insider ^^ ) ! Naja, es wird der letzte von meinem Japanaufenthalt werden, aber nicht der letzte des Blogs.

Vom Tôshôgû-Schrein ging es weiter zum Futarasan-Schrein.

Im Jahr 782 erbaute Shôdo Shônin (der mit den Schlangen und der Brücke ^^ ) den Futara-Schrein zu Ehren des Bergs Futara (eines der Symbole Nikkôs), welchen er bestiegen hatte. Futara ist der ältere Name des Bergs Nantai, einer der drei in der Nähe liegenden Berge, welche als shintoistische Gottheiten in Nikkô geehrt werden. Der Berg Nantai wird uns noch später über den Weg laufen.

Der Shintoismus ist eine nur in Japan praktizierte Religion, welche lange vor dem Buddhismus entstanden war. Am einfachsten lässt sie sich mit einer Art Natur-Religion vergleichen, welche die verschiedensten Gottheiten verehrt, Verstorbene, Menschen, Tieren, Bäumen, Gewässern, Bergen, Gegenständen etc. – überall sind Götter zu finden.

Auf dem Schrein-Gelände finden sich gleich 2 interessante Baumkonstellationen, welche verehrt werden und Glück bringen – zu erkennen an den weißen Bändern.

Ein Pärchen:

Eine Familie:

Danach ging es weiter und unseren letzten Tempel, in der Tat dieses mal ein Tempel und kein Schrein, und erwischten diesen knapp vor Toresschluss. Drum mussten wir auch ein bisschen, entgegen unserer Natur, über das Gelände hetzen.

Der Taiyuinbyo ist das Mausoleum des dritten Tokugawa Shôgus Iemitsu, welche für Ieyasu den Tôshôgû-Schrein bauen ließ.

Das Tor:

Die Haupthalle

Kaum waren wir draussen, wurde die Tür geschlossen ! Der Mönchen, welcher hinter und her lief und uns somit zum Ausgang bucksierte, war fast ein wenig unheimlich ^^ !

Und dann wart auch die letzte Türe hinter uns geschlossen *hihi* ! Keine Chance zum Verstecken und zum Übernachten auf dem Gelände… wäre aber vermutlich auch zu feucht geworden.

Für die Übernachtung in Nikkô hatten wir uns das YAMAの家 ausgesucht. Eine günstige, aber hübsche Penison, sehr familiär, im westlichen Stil, leckeres Essen und ein einfaches Zimmer. Zwei private “künstliche” Onsen, wie auf der Website weiter unten zu sehen, waren auch im Preis mit inbegriffen. War echt angenehm im Wasser zu sitzen und auf den Wald zu schauen, welcher an die Pension grenzt!

Der nächste Morgen empfing und dann mit… REGEN! Tja, so kann es gehen. Wir wollten zum Chuzenji-ko, einem großen See am Fusse des Berges Nantai, und dort umherstreifen. Der Regen war nicht einladend, aber wir sind trotzdem los. Von der Nikkô-Tobu-Station fährt ein Bus für 1100 Yen in ca. 50 Minuten zum See.

Der See entstand vor ca. 20000 Jahren, als der Nantai ausbrach und ein Lavastrom den Fluss Daiya absperrte.

Und das ist er, der Nantai, seit Urzeiten verehrt, 2484m hoch. Die Bilder entstanden im übrigen während einer 50 minütigen Bootstour auf dem See. Nicht dass ihr denkt, ich würde auf dem Wasser wandeln können !

Der Chuzenji-ko hat einen Umfang von 25km und eine Wassertiefe von 163m. Er liegt 1269m über dem Meeresspiegel und ist Japans höchst gelegener See, bis auf ein paar künstlich angelegte Seen.

Nach der Bootstour ging es wieder zu einem Futara-san-Schrein – dieses mal am Fusse des Nantai (Futara) gelegen. Vom Bootsanleger zum Schrein ist es nicht allzu weit.

Die Menschen, die den Nantai besteigen möchten, können sich hier beim Frosch (links) in eintragen, um für eine gute Heimkehr zu bitten.

Wir sind war nicht den Berg hinauf, haben uns aber trotzdem eingetragen. Kann ja nie schaden, oder ^^ ?

Der Aufstieg beginnt hier:

Auf dem Schrein-Gelände des heiligen Berges findet sich auch dieser Baum… ist das zu glauben? 1000 Jahre alt!

Cosmos… ist sie nicht wunderwunderschön?!? Im nächsten Jahr wird sie auch in Pinneberg wachsen !

Jedes Mal, wenn ich an den Cosmos-Feldern in Japan vorbei gegangen bin, hatte ich dieses Lied im Kopf und Dai begann es ebenfalls zu summen… Diese Pflänzchen sind die frühen Boten des Herbstes.

Als wir bei den Blumen standen fiel uns plötzlich auf, WIE ruhig es war… Warum? Wir waren irgendwie die einzigen ^^ ! Das war mir in Japan bisher glaube ich noch nie passiert. Ein Touri-Gebiet ohne Touris ! Und… der Nebel. Er kam von den Bergen, zog zwischen ihnen auf und ungelogen, binnen 20 Minuten war das Gebiet des Chuzenji-ko komplett in Nebel getaucht, was die einsame Stimmung noch bizarrer und mystischer wirken lies. Da standen wir nun, im Nebel und wir wollten von zum Kegon-Wasserfall. Dieser Wasserfall ist der einzige Ablauf des Chuzenji-ko und mit seinen 97m einer der drei höchsten in Japan.

Nur, hat schon mal jemand von euch versucht, einen Wasserfall im Nebel zu sehen ^^ ? Es war ein wirklich grandioses Schauspiel und wir Glücklichen waren tatsächlich fast allein. Binnen von Sekunden änderte sich die Sicht… mal konnte man ihn sehen, mal die Bäume, mal gar nichts. Traumhaft! Die Bilder geben die Stimmung nicht wirklich wieder, aber vielleicht könnt ihr etwas die Atmosphäre erahnen…

Und mein Lieblingsbild…

Als wir so am Wasserfall standen, umgeben von seinem mächtigen Rauschen, sagten wir uns, was für ein Glück, dass wir uns trotz des Regens, der letztendlich gar nicht so störend und schlimm gewesen war, auf gemacht hatten. Nikkô SO zu erleben, war etwas sehr besonderes und man fühlt sich den Bergen, den Vulkanen und Wäldern noch näher.

Dieses ist das letzte Bild, welches ich in Nikkô am Busbahnhof gemacht habe. Hier waren denn dann doch noch ein paar wenige Menschen zu finden ^^, welche auch zurück zum Bahnhof wollten.

Nikkô lohnt sich wirklich, aber ein oder zwei Tage mehr wären schön gewesen, um den Nantai zu besteigen oder die Senjo-gahara, ein Hochmoor, zu durchwandern. Die Natur hier ist wunderschön und es stehen verschiedene Hiking-Touren zur Auswahl mit unterschiedlichen Schwierigkeitsgraden.

Tja… das wars mit den Berichten. Es hat mir sehr sehr viel Spaß gemacht, sie zu schreiben und ich war überrascht, WER sie alles mit Interesse verfolgt hat ! Und vielen Dank dafür, dass sich niemand über meinen Stil ausgelassen hat. Ich habe alle Berichte einfach runtergetippt und kaum Korrekturgelesen, dafür kamen sie aber von Herzen ! Und seid gewiss, die nächsten Berichte kommen bestimmt!

*winke*

History:

Tokugawa Ieyasu (1542-1616) captured an overwhelming victory at the landmark battle of Sekigahara where his army stood  opposed by a coalition of lords loyal to Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537-1598) led by Moori Terumoto (1553-1625). In 1603, to  consecrate his victory, Ieyasu received the title of shogun from the emperor Goyozei, a feat which his two predecessors, Oda  Nobunaga (1534-1582) and Toyotomi Hideyoshi, were never able to achieve. He then put in place a new warrior government,  or bakufu, in the city of Edo, modern day Tokyo.

This new era, which would last nearly two and a half centuries, was characterized by a long period of peace where the  warrior roles and customs would change dramatically. However, it must be noted that the Edo period was far from being  trouble free – many dissidents who rallied around the son of Hideyoshi, Toyotomi Hideyori (1593-1615), and opposed the  powers that be needed to be dealt with. The siege of Osaka castle in 1614 would prove to be the end of Hideyori, and the battle  of Shimabara in Kyushu in 1637 marked the end of Christianity and other dissident groups in Japan.

Throughout this period, the relative peace would lead to a flourishing of many schools of bujutsu, the teaching of types of  weapons and techniques that up until this time were transmitted to the elite in the greatest of secrecy during the Sengoku period

(1480-1570), and would now shift from the shadows into the light and would finally end up being used by the law enforcement that came into fruition under the new Tokugawa government during the Edo period.

The warriors or bushi, would have to very quickly adapt themselves to this new era where all combat, duels, and quests of vengeance would be prohibited and condemned systematically by the government. Similarly, the warriors who would take up posts in law enforcement in the city of Edo, capital of the new government, could no longer be able use radical techniques that aimed at killing one’s adversary, but rather techniques that would disarm and control without taking life.

As well, a type of weapon whose transmission was kept secret at the heart of a weapons school, would become the new symbol of order. This transmission encompassing a large variety of weapons was called To no mono, Soto no mono, and Kakushi buki.

Transmission of To no mono and Kakushi buki:

That which we call the To no mono or Soto no mono (外之物) literally; “exterior things” or “object found outside the field of vision”, etc. is a science transmitted at the heart of a Japanese school of combat, dispensing multidisciplinary instruction of  combat empty handed or with various weapons applicable to the battle field, brawls, duels, etc. This science was transmitted as secretly as possible along with the practice of kenjutsu, jujutsu, bojutsu, etc.

It forms a part of the profound principles, o-gi (奥義), essential techniques, goku-i (極意), and reverse techniques, ura waza (裏技), which were not transmitted until the other disciplines like kenjutsu, ju-taijutsu, etc. were mastered and most importantly, that the disciple had the complete confidence of the master. In effect, the transmission of soto no mono included two types of teachings unique to bujutsu which are called kuden (口傳), oral transmission and taiden (體傳), corporeal transmission.

However, in the case of the transmission of soto no mono, the oral and corporeal transmissions took on a whole new meaning as they included technical details unique to the manner of using the body and weapon as taught in the soto no mono. We discover here as well, another meaning for the term soto no mono that suggests more strongly that it pertains to types of weapons that are far from the “beaten path”, and therefore unorthodox, and that are not to be practiced in public view. In this way it is indeed a skill on the fringe, outside of the usual combat methods of the school but that applies to the core physicality that remains the driving force of the school.

As well, at the time a candidate acquires this transmission, he also receives in addition to the menkyo kaiden (免許皆伝 : attestation to the mastery of the disciplines taught by the school), several densho (傳書 : work of transmission for the techniques of the school) and makimono (巻物 : scroll in which are transcribed an index of the techniques, history, technical terms, and the genealogy of the school) and most importantly he is given the ku-densho (口傳書 : work containing all of the kuden of the school relating to techniques and the use of weapons of soto no mono) and the e-densho (絵傳書 : work containing sketches and technical outlines for the fabrication of the weapons of soto no mono, see photo 1). It goes without saying that these last two works cannot exist one without the other and of course not forgetting the art of using the body freely in its entirety in all situations.

Because the weapons employed by the soto no mono were created for critical combat situations where the situation was moving in favor of the adversary, we always find a portion of every densho reserved for the practice and use of the weapons of soto no mono. The shinkage-ryu kadensho-soto mono no maki ( 新影流家傳書．外之物之巻 : Family Transmission of Strategy, chapter, soto no mono) written in 1632 by Yagyu Munenori Tajima no kami (1571-1646) of the Yagyu Shinkage ryu, or perhaps the Shinto-ryu bokuden hyakushu (新當流．朴伝百首 : The One Hundred Poems of Bokuden, Shintoo-ryu school), a densho that presents all of the oral teachings of Tsukahara Bokuden (1486-1571) founder of the Shinto ryu also called the Bokuden ryu, are good examples; the translation of  the latter is as follows:

“The art which we call soto no mono is taught outside of the main body of techniques of the school, though it is an extension of the basic teachings of the school. It is not an art which can be perfected in the course of training in the dôjô, as it is a practice devoted to real situations; one has to practice in such a way that it can be used at any moment in everyday life…”

We understand starting from the first few lines that the soto no mono is a practice that encompasses some unique weapons, the driving force of which comes from the basic teachings of the school, whether that be kenjutsu, bojutsu, etc., and that outside of training in the dojo it is a practice that must be constantly polished in everyday life in order to be able to face any aggression or danger that could arise.

The rest of the text goes even further to pinpoint a more specific name for these kinds of weapons that was already being transmitted before the period of feudal wars or the sengoku period:

“…Possessing the practical knowledge allows one to face any weapon in the most difficult of situations: Knowing the methods and techniques related to unorthodox weapons that are not practiced in the basic system taught directly by the school. Even when we do not carry the two swords at our belt, we must have this type of weapon hidden on our person and face an assailant by relying on the basic physical movement taught by the school. This is the essential principle of kakushi buki.”

This passage effectively illustrates the uses of what would later become known as the symbolic weapons of protection and order in the application of justice by the new Edo police. In fact, one would only make use of these unorthodox weapons in a difficult battle against a “strong” weapon, for example; sword against spear, sword against naginata, sword against stick, sword against kusari-gama, or even sword against empty hand or simply against an assailant armed with projectile weapons i.e. shuriken. Moreover, it enlightens us to the fact that this was a type of weapon that was not taught in the school where the discipline could be focused around kenjutsu, bojutsu, or jujutsu whose use and mastery depended upon the essential movement which remained the heart of the practice. This leads to the fact that these adepts who received this knowledge were real experts in the wielding of a wide array of weapons like the jutte, tanbo, tessen, naeshi, kusari fundo, shurikenjutsu, etc., and so the teaching would be kept secret as it was very dangerous.

We understand immediately that in order to use that which is hidden from the view of the assailant, and more importantly, to do so without giving off any intention that might give away the use of the weapon, requires a flexible mastery of the entire body; of the breathing, the emotions and feelings, and the ability to gauge instantly any crisis situation, etc.; in other words, a state of absolute peace that transcends the natural ability of man to keep his cool in the middle of a dangerous situation. All of these aspects must come together in one movement; wherein lies the soul of the use and practice of the weapons of soto no mono.

Therefore, we are able to more deeply grasp the meaning of kakushi buki (隠し武器), literally “hidden weapons” or “weapons that we hide” stemming from the fact that they are exterior (soto no mono) to the field of vision, distant without being separate from the practice; absent all the while being present.

All of the schools that came about in the Muromachi period (1378-1489) like the Kage-ryu, Chujo-ryu, Nen-ryu, Kashima-ryu, Shinto-ryu, Tenshin shoden katori shinto-ryu, Bokuden-ryu, and of course the famous jujutsu schools such as the Shosho-ryu, Takeuchi-ryu that were born in the sengoku period, had a curriculum of techniques teaching the use of kakushi buki or soto no mono, and often with their own proprietary weapons.

Of course, it goes without saying that the schools of ninjutsu, by the secretive nature of this art as a whole, developed a wide range of kakushi buki through a science of combat materialized by a natural movement devoid of rigid forms that merge exceptionally the contrary principles, the aspects of force, long and short distances and diverse weaponry, called juppô sesshô no jutsu (十方折衝之術).

The schools which we have mentioned above were among the top schools in the practice of bujutsu both with weapons and empty hand. They all attracted many practitioners and their skills were highly sought after by the prominent warlords of the time. Weapons like the tessen (鉄扇); the fan worn by high ranking warriors, courtesans, and kabuki actors, despite its unassuming appearance was nonetheless a formidable weapon. Moreover, when it is used in the context of a dangerous attack where the adversary is using a weapon like the sword, its effectiveness demonstrates a real mastery of body movement, of distance, and of space. There are three types of tessen (photo 2): the maiogi (舞扇) used by no and kabuki artists as well as in other popular dances; the sensu (扇子) for everyday use; and the gunsen (軍扇) carried by warriors and that would be later used by high ranking police officers of the Edo period.

It was also customary for the warrior not to tarnish his sword and to therefore control with either the tessen or the naeshi (萎えし see photo 3), the tanbo (短棒 photo 4) or the jutte (十手 photo 5), after having disarmed the assailant without injuring him. Moreover, these same types of weapons that would later be used as the semi-exclusive weapons of the police of the Edo period, grew out of the troubled sengoku period where their mastery was limited to a small entourage of initiates and select high ranking warriors.

The jutte was also a weapon that was kept secret as its teaching, from the beginning of the sengoku period, gave one the ability to reverse a situation at any moment. The essence of the jutte is based upon the Heiho Niten ichi ryu (兵法二天一流) of Miyamoto Musashi (1584-1685) who learnt the secrets of its use from his adoptive father Miyamoto Munisai (16^th century), master of the renowned Tori ryu kenjutsu(當理流剣術). This school would later perpetuate itself under the name Jutte tori ryu(實手當理流) and its transmission is found within the Enmei ryu(圓明流) which is known under the name Enmei jutte ryu(圓明實手流) or as the tetsujin jutte-ryu(鉄人實手流).

However, the jutte from this school is completely different; in fact it was exclusively created for use in situations where the combat could become suddenly disadvantageous. If we take a look at photo 6 it becomes clear that the jutte transmitted by the enmei ryu was a multi-purpose weapon. Photo 7 shows different orientations of the jutte in its most basic form. The e-densho (photo illustrates the dimensions and materials needed to create this weapon.

Similarly, the term as well as the Sino-Japanese character that describes the jutte differs according to the period and the school. In fact, even though it is read jutte (十手), a reading that comes from the language spoken in the city of Edo, we also see the readings jitte, jutte, jittei, and juttei. As well, the reading of the first character (實) was one of makoto, minoru, jitsu which means; to stand its ground, truth, real, etc. Therefore it consists of a simple weapon with an unassuming appearance, but that will, in the hands of an expert in the movement of the body, “stand its ground” immediately in all “real” situations.

The ancient schools of bujutsu that secretly dispensed teaching of this weapon left their names etched in the history of the bujutsu, to note; Kage ryu, Shinkage ryu, Yagyu ryu, Komagawa kaishin ryu, Kukishin ryu, Takeuchi ryu, Shosho ryu, etc.

This weapon was also used by the Dôshin(同心) Shihai-kaikyu(支配階級), Machi-kata(町方), Oniwaban(御庭番),Onmitsu(隠密), Metsuke(目付), Teppô- tai(鉄砲隊) who were all at different levels, groups that made up the police in Edo, put in place by the Tokugawa. The Tokugawa family was the only one who knew how to judiciously employ the ninja of Koga and Iga. They entered into the service of the Tokugawa beginning at the battle of Ujizane castle in 1562 where Ieyasu freed his family that had been taken hostage, and at the time of the siege of Honnô temple in 1582 where Oda Nobunaga committed suicide.

The ninja of Koga and Iga that were in the service of the Tokugawa formed the basis of the new Edo police. Each had their own role, as not all of them were expert marksman, technicians, or spies; and they were divided among the groups mentioned above. The machi-kata lived on the outskirts of Edo where crime was rampant. They did rounds with a type of weapon like the 1.80m stick (bô), the sword and jutte, and a rope used to subdue the criminal with a high degree of skill unique to Japan known under the generic title tori-nawa-jutsu (捕縄術) or hôjo-jutsu which included as well shibaru-jutsu (縛術); the art of tying up (photo 9). This art which consists of binding the adversary during combat or of tying him up while controlling him with a joint lock, existed already in the old schools of the sengoku period.

Later on, schools like the Muhen-ryu (無辺流), Toda-ryû (戸田流), Kiraku- ryû (気楽流) and Araki-ryû (荒木流) that came into existence in the Edo period; whose lineages stem from the Takeuchi ryu that was already teaching tori-nawa-jutsu during the sengoku period, began to develop themselves.

The Shihai-kaikyu were groups that repressed trouble at the time of disturbances and revolts that could have materialized from general discontent. They too, possessed the same types of weapons.

The Oniwaban and Onmitsu brought together all the qualities of combatant, spy, marksman, and strategist. A striking example was Hattori Hanzô (1543-1596), nicknamed Oni Hanzô “Hanzô the demon” who was the head of the Onmitsu, the secret police in charge of monitoring the actions of the different daimyo that held strategic regions, not unlike the metsuke. His residence was constructed near one of the gates of the Tokugawa castle in Edo that had the name “Hanôo no mon”, the gate of Hanzô. Today, one of the Tokyo metropolitan train lines has the name “Hanzô-mon-line”, as it designates the station where the residence of Hanzô existed long ago

The Oniwaban were charged with the duty of protecting the living quarters of the Tokugawa family in Edo castle. As it was prohibited to draw a sword or any weapon within the confines of the castle, we understand how weapons like the jutte or the tanbo which stem from the use of the naeshi, were used to disarm and control the adversary. We can clearly see the reasoning behind using a ninja for this type of police work; in effect, the Tokugawa entrusted this mission to a group of specialists, established experts in the art of operating discretely and above all silently, in order to avoid any ruckus.

The teppôo-tai was a group armed with firearms, the majority of whose members were survivors of Negoro temple, renowned for its mastery and construction of firearms; that was later destroyed by Oda Nobunaga in 1560. This armed unit protected the shogun as he was leaving the castle. They carried the name Okubo hyaku-nin-shu (大久保百人衆), the hundred men of Okubo, as the group had established itself in the district of Okubo that is presently located along the yamanote line, a principal line on the Tokyo metropolitan rail system.

Totally representative of this police force was the art of kakushi buki, highly valued for its inconspicuous appearance and of course for the multiple uses that it offers. The naeshi (萎えし) whose use would give birth to the art of the tanbô, was used very early on by the police as it allows one to control the vital points and joints to restrict the mobility of the adversary and could also be used against any weapon in any space. The Japanese version of this weapon shows that its use allows one to annihilate the resistive power of the adversary.

It is therefore a weapon that allows one to “steal”, to take away the freedom of movement of the adversary, which for a weapon of inoffensive appearance is very significant and which explains the choice of this weapon to arm the various police units in Edo and also the fact that its transmission in the past was kept secret. The naeshi was obtained from a bow that had been broken, which explains the ancient term yume ore tsue (弓折れ杖), “cane born from a broken bow”. It goes without saying that the methods and materials required to create this type of weapon, like all of the others, varied according to school, person, region, etc. They could be made of wood, iron, composite materials, etc.

The warriors from the periods prior to the Edo period used the naeshi but under the ancient appellation hana-neji (鼻捩), to control their mount or a stubborn animal, which corresponds well to the meaning of the word; hana, the nose and neji from the verb nejiru which signifies to twist or torsion. To control an animal by hitting his nose, which implies knowledge of the vital points, and a subtle knowledge of the human body transmitted conjointly with the art of the soto no mono.

Later on, the use of this instrument as a weapon of control without seeking to injure or take life, slowly but surely spread. It is immediately obvious that the use of the naeshi, just like that of the tanbo, requires an exceptional mastery of the art of moving the body as well as a strong focus and foresight of the situation that arises when this type of weapon is used.

Two famous schools that began at the beginning of the Edo period taught the arts of the naeshi and tanbô which resulted from them. The first is the Yagyu shingan ryu jujutsu (柳生心眼流), for the first weapon; and the Asayama Ichiden-ryu taijutsu(浅山一傳流) for the tanbô. The latter school would eventually be responsible for the diffusion of the tanbo and of tori-nawa-jutsu to police throughout Japan as the techniques that it presented were extremely effective.

Throughout the entire Edo period, those who we would call the tori-mono (捕者), the trappers who used all of these weapons, also called tori-mono (捕物: weapons for trapping, to apprehend a criminal) that originate from the transmission of the kakushi buki, soto no mono, and from the ancient schools of bujutsu, would spearhead a police force that judiciously incorporated the concept of controlling without injuring in the application of justice. This reveals that the ultimate knowledge of these weapons lies in the control of the body and spirit, and forms the cornerstone of the most efficient application of an equitable form of justice in the service of the disadvantaged.

Dr. Kacem Zoughari.

Weiter geht’s in Nikkô! Wie in den anderen Berichten, ist es mir auch hier kaum möglich, alles Erlebte in Worte zu fassen und die Bilder geben nur einen ganz kleinen Eindruck von dem Gesamten wieder. Aber ich hoffe trotzdem, dass ihr ein bisschen von der Stimmung dort miterleben könnt.

Der Aufstieg begann…. Auch wenn das Wetter hätte besser sein können, war die Stimmung und Atmosphäre durch den leichten Nebel in den Bergen unglaublich.

Und dann waren wir angekommen – der Tôshôgû-Schrein, das Mausoleum des Shôguns Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Und als Dai diese Gebäude erblickte war er tief beeindruckt. Ich natürlich auch, aber als Ausländer und “Tourist” reagiere ich eh anders auf Tempel und Schreine und so war seine Reaktion schon besonders. Die Farben dieses Schreins sind in der Tat für japanische Verhältnisse sehr aussergewöhnlich und “dick auftragend”. Blattgold, Rot, Grün, Gelb… unglaublich viele Verzierungen und Figuren… Berichten nach wurden 140000 Bäume, 500 kg Gold und 370 kg Silber für diesen monumentalen Bau benutzt. Das Tempelgelände umfasst 8 Gebäude.

Wendet man sich von dieser Position nach links, geht man an diesen Genossen vorbei, welche den Heiligen Stall verziehren. Der Stall, in dem die heiligen Pferde, welche für Zeremonien gebraucht wurden, ist das einizge Gebäude, welches aus unbemaltem Holz besteht.

Der Spruch “Nichts Böses sehen, hören und sagen.” geht auf die buddhistische Lehre zurück und hat mit Affen nichts zu tun. Im Japanischen jedoch heißt es mizaru 見ざる (nichts sehen), kikazaru 聞かざる (nichts hören), iwazaru 言わざる (nichts sagen). Im klassischen Japanisch ist ざる zaru die Verneinung einer Tätigkeit und hört sich gesprochen oft ähnlich an wie Affe 猿 saru.

Die Schnitzerei am heiligen Pferdestall ist vermutlich nicht die erste, aber die älteste, von der das Datum bekannt ist. Drum sind es wohl auch die Affen von Nikkô, die so berühmt geworden sind.

Diese Tür fand ich totaaal hübsch!

Das Innere des Schreins durften wir nicht Fotographieren, aber ich habe in Japan etwas in der Art noch nie gesehen. Gold, Farben, interessante Gemälde… beeindruckend.

Im Netz habe ich nur diese Zeichnung gefunden, welche dem Original aber nicht wirklich nahe kommt:

Das Einzige, was ich fotographieren konnte, war dieses Bild vom Eingang:

Interessant fand ich die schwarz-rot-goldenen Bommsel überall ^^ ! Nein, sie haben nichts mit Deutschland zu tun. Kann man sich vorstellen, wie es hier vor knappen 400 Jahren zugegangen sein mag, umgeben von Samurai, Priestern, dem Shôgun? Wir hatten Glück, dass die Busreise-Gruppe, welche vor uns den Schrein erreichte, schon längst wieder gegangen war und somit war das Gelände sehr ruhig und leer. Die Bäume rauschten und dufteten, die Suzumushi zirpten, ein leichter Nebel… Es wäre echt schön, an so einem Ort mal ein paar Tage ganz in Ruhe zu verbringen. Mein nächter Japan-Besuch wird, wenn es denn klappen sollte, einige Übernachtungen in einem Tempel enthalten. Ich weiß, ist seeehr früh geplant, aber man muss ja Ziele haben im Leben *hihi* !

Die Mikoshi des Schreins:

Diese Skulpturen sind alle aus Holz geschnitzt:

Ich habe gerade im Netz ein schönes Video von diesem Schrein gefunden. Die ruhige Atmosphäre auf dem Berg zwischen all den Bäumen ist echt schön!

Wie am Ende des Video gesehen, gelangt man von Tôshôgû-Schrein zum Futarasan-Schrein. Warum wir hier dem Shôdo Shônin wieder begegneten, schreibe ich beim nächsten Mal ^^ !

Nikkô, die Stadt, welche seit dem 8 Jhr. heilig ist, war das Ziel unseres letzten Ausflugs in Japan. Wir waren uns zuerst nicht sicher, ob wir ein Onsen in Izu geniessen sollten oder uns auf die Spuren von Shôgun Tokugawa Ieyasu machen sollten. Aber wie bei vielleicht einigen von uns Japan-Liebhabern, wie auch bei mir, löst der Name dieses Shoguns zusammen mit den Namen Toyotomi Hideyoshi und Oda Nobunaga ganz besondere Erinnerungen hervor.

“Was tun, wenn die Nachtigall nicht singen will?”
Nobunaga antwortet: “Töte sie!”
Hideyoshi antwortet: “Erwecke in ihr den Wunsch zu singen.”
Ieyasu antwortet: “Warte ab.”

Drum war ich es denn, die sagte, dass ich das Grab dieses Menschen besuchen möchte.

Oft werde ich gefragt, womit meine Faszination für Japan begonnen hat. Genau kann ich es nicht sagten, aber die TV Miniserie “Shôgun” von 1980 mit Richard Chamberlain und Toshiro Mifune, welche ich als Kind mit meiner Familie unter Spannung verfolgt habe, hat bestimmt die eine oder andere tiefe Spur bei mir hinterlassen. Uhi… wenn ich die tollen Bilder des Videos so sehe, muss ich unweigerlich an die Erkundung der Burg Nijô denken… es scheint schon so lange her zu sein.

Toshiro Mifune spielt in dieser Serie den Shôgun Toranaga – in Anlehnung an den wahren Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Leider liess der Wetterbericht für die nächsten Tage nichts gutes vermuten, weswegen wir uns diesmal wirklich auf Regen eingestellt hatten.

Nach Nikkô zu gelangen ist von Tôkyô aus nicht schwer. Man kann von Asakusa aus eine normale Bahn der Tobu-Linie nehmen und ist mit 1320 Yen in knappen 2 1/2 Stunden am Ziel. Es fahren auch Semi-Express und Express-Züge, diese sind aber deutlich teurer und nicht viel schneller.

Die Zeit im Zug haben wir mit Studieren verbracht, bzw. Dai hat sie damit verbracht, denn es war auch eine unser letzten Möglichkeiten, Fragen bezüglich des Clicker-Trainings zu erörtern. Die intermediäre Brücke hatte ich zwar schon vor längerem begonnen bei Haruno anzuwenden, aber nun hieß es, auch ein bisschen mehr Theorie zu erarbeiten ^^ .

Für Interessierte dieses Artikels von Kayce Cover: http://www.synalia.com/articles/bridgesIB.html

Ein Teil der Marschverpflegung im Zug:

Ein japanisches Sprichwort sagt, Nikkô o minu uchi wa kekkô to iu na 日光を見ぬうちは結構というな. Wörtlich – “Sage nicht, dass sei (herrlich) genug, bevor Du Nikkô gesehen hast!”. Am Bahnhof angekommen, wirkte das etwas wolkenbehangene Städtchen zunächst recht beschaulich.

Nikkô liegt in den Bergen der Präfektur Tochigi und dadurch ist es hier, obwohl nur 140km nördlich von Tokyo gelegen, merklich kühler. Sehr angenehm für mich, die sofort an “meinen” Wald in Pinneberg erinnert wurde, etwas zu kühl für meine Begleitung ^^ .

Nachdem wir uns bei der Touristen-Information mit Karten eingedeckt hatten, ging es auch schon los. Viel Zeit hatten wir nicht und somit gab es nichts zu verschenken. Erstes Ziel war somit der Tôshûgû-Schrein mit dem Mausoleum von Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Mit dem Bus ging es zu dem grossen heiligen Areal, in dem vieles von der UNESCO als Weltkulturerbe ausgezeichnet wurde.

Der Bus hielt vor der heiligen Brücke, Shinkyô, welche über den Fluss Daiya führt. Ausser an religiösen Festtagen durfte nur der Shôgun diese Brücke überqueren. Nun wanderte ich über sie, nach dem Entrichten von 300 Yen *haha*. Sie ist 27m lang, 6m breit und 16m über der Wasseroberfläche eines traumhaften Flusses, dessen Wasser eine unglaublich blau-türkis Farbe zu haben scheint. Ob sich das Wandeln auf dieser Brücke für das Geld nun gelohnt hat bei dem Wetter, darüber mag man streiten. Schöner wäre es natürlich bei Sonnenschein und mit der roten Herbstlaubfärbung, wofür diese Brücke als Aussichtspunkt berühmt ist, aber ich mag halt Legenden und heilige Brücke findet man ja nun auch nicht überall !

Diese Brücke trägt eigentlich den Namen “Yamasuge-no-Jabashi”, welcher auf folgender Legende zurück geht:

Als Shôdo Shônin und 10 seiner Anhänger im Jahre 767 versuchten, die Berge von Nikkô zu erkunden, wurden sie vom Fluss Daiya aufgehalten. Der Strom war stark und es gab keine Brücke, welche sie überqueren konnten.

Shôdo Shônin begann innig zu beten und seine Gebete wurden vom Gott erhört – Jinja Daio erschien, eine rote und eine blaue Schlange tragend. Er warf diese beiden über den Flus, sie windeten sich umeinander und formten die Brücke. Auf den Rücken der Schlagen entwuchs yamasuge (wildes Riedgras), welches Shôdo Shônin und seinen Anhängern ermöglichte, die “Brücke” zu überquere, ohne auszurutschen.

Als die Brücke erbaut wurde, wurde sie Yamasuge-no-Jabashi genannt – Brücke der Schlangen mit Riedgras – in Gedenken an Jinja Daiô.

Nach dem Betreten der heiligen Brücke sind auch wir hinaufgestiegen in die Berge von Nikkô. Wie es mit dem Shôgun Tokugawa Iesayu und den 3 heiligen Affen weiter geht, werdet ihr im zweiten Teil lesen können !

Wir sind gerade aus dem vernebeltem und etwas mystisch anmutendem Nikko zurueck! Trotz des Wetters hat sich unser Ausflug dorthin wirklich gelohnt.

Da ich morgen meinen letzten Tag in Japan verbringen werde, werde ich vermutlich kaum dazu kommen, einen Bericht noch hier fertig zuschreiben. Als Appetit-Happen gibts vorab aber schon mal die “3 beruehmten Affen”.

Was es mit ihnen und den heiligen Pferden auf sich hat, erfahrt ihr spaeter. Vorweg… sie bedeuten nicht, nichts hoeren, sagen und sehen im Sinne von ignorieren.

*winke*

Today is the Japanese holiday 「敬老の日」 (“Respect For The Aged Day“).
Click here to read my short FAQ about it.

Yesterday my family and I went to the 「根津神社祭り」 (“Nezu Shrine Festival“).

From there, we stopped by the gravesite of Japan’s last 将軍 (Shogun), 徳川慶喜 (Yoshinobu Tokugawa).

After that, we got dinner at an 居酒屋 (Japanese izakaya restaurant) and then went home.
It was a fun day together.

Pendant l’ère d’Edo, le shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu après avoir consulté le prêtre Nankôbô Tenkaï décide que celui de ses deux fils qui lui succédera, sera désigné par l’issue de la confrontation de deux clans ninja légendaires : les Kôga et les Iga. Ces deux clans ennemis depuis 400 ans entretiennent un pacte de non-agression depuis quelques générations décrété par l’ancêtre de Hattori Hanzo. Ce dernier autorise les deux clans à reprendre le conflit qui les oppose sous la pression du shogun : chacun des clans devra désigner 10 maîtres ninja qui s’affronteront à mort sous les couleurs des fils Tokugawa. Le survivant donnera le pouvoir à celui des héritiers qu’il représente ! Mais les descendants des familles Koga et Iga, Koga Gennosuke et Iga Oboro, sont amoureux et tels des Roméo et Juliette, ils se voient en cachette…

Voilà un manga très connu mais à bien y réfléchir, Basilisk ne présente pas un grand intérêt. Explications.

D’abord par une histoire sans surprise, évidente en quelques pages et surtout basé sur des combats, souvent ridicules. Je n’ai rien contre les combats mais quand il n’y a QUE ca, je trouve qu’il manque quelque chose. L’histoire d’amour? Quelle histoire d’amour? A ce truc ridicule entre les deux héros. Franchement, quand on voit la fin, on se demande vraiment à quoi rimait tout ce barda. La pseudo intrigue introduite en cours de route est un fiasco car on s’en fiche totalement. L’ambiance est déjà posée et ce semblant de scénario ressemble plus à un intrus gênant qu’à une idée de génie.
Le truc des pouvoirs n’est pas un vrai problème en soi. C’est parfois un peu gros mais il y a la même chose dans Ninja Scroll, qui est très bon. L’auteur a au moins le mérite de faire passer ces pouvoirs comme “normal” dès le début donc on n’y prête pas trop attention.

Les personnages ne sont pas mauvais mais on les voit trop peu pour s’y attacher vraiment. En tout, ce n’est ni Oboro, ni Gennosuke qui arriveront en tête de mes préférés. La première à cause de son caractère de gamine, vraiment indigne d’un chef; le second parce qu’il est aussi inexpressif qu’un poulpe. Habituellement, j’aime les persos froids, calmes, un peu de la trempe de Kuchiki Byakuya mais Gennosuke ne peut pas se vanter d’avoir autant de classe (mis à part le moment où il dévoile son pouvoir). Le méchant aurait pu être cool mais d’une part, il ressemble trop à un autre personnage, ce qui embrouille tout, et d’autre part, son caractère ne colle pas du tout. C’est un brute, sans cervelle qui plus est. Non, le seul protagoniste intéressant est Kagero, qui ressemble d’ailleurs beaucoup (trop) à une autre Kagero, l’héroïne de Ninja Scroll. Même pouvoir, même caractère, même don pour trouver les emmerdes, surtout affectifs. M’enfin, j’ai fermé les yeux pour cette fois.

Le dessin par contre m’a posé quelques problèmes. Non pas qu’il soit mauvais, je l’aime plutôt bien, noir et dur, mais parce qu’encore une fois, il est trop proche de Ninja Scroll. Les hommes souvent monstrueux ou méga beaux gosses, les femmes plantureuses, les deux héros sont presque jumeaux (sauf que Gennosuke tire plus la tronche). Ce point m’a gêné car il est flagrant. Si vous n’avait pas vu Ninja Scroll, ces ressemblances ne vous choqueront pas.

Manga en 5 tomes, Basilisk ne restera pas dans ma mémoire très longtemps. Ca se lit vite mais l’intérêt est vraiment limité. Pour ceux qui aiment le sang et les combats à vau-l’eau, ne cherchez plus. Pour l’histoire d’amour, on repassera.

J’apprécie les mangas. Si vous lisez ceci, c’est que vous appréciez les mangas ou que vous voulez vous y intéresser (ou que vous êtes masochiste, au choix). On aime les dessins, les histoires, les combats, les romances… Mais il nous arrive souvent de manquer des allusions et des détails qui rajoutent de la saveur aux mangas. Tout comme un japonais aura du mal à tout appréhender en lisant un Tintin (et les « petites » tendances colonialistes de ses débuts…), il nous manque certains présupposés culturels. C’est normal vu que les japonais habitent à peu près à l’autre bout du monde et que moi en tout cas j’en rencontre pas tous les jours au petit dej’. Je vais donc vous faire part de ceux qui me semblent les plus important, enfin surtout ceux que je connais….

Un peu d’histoire pour commencer. La bataille de Sekigahara, qui a eu lieu en 1600, est aussi incontournable qu’Ikéa pour un étudiant qui s’installe. Elle décida du sort du Japon pour à peu près  260 ans et c’est la fondation du Japon tel qu’on le connaît avec l’instauration de Tokyo comme capitale par les Tokugawas. C’est une période qui est le cadre historique de nombreux mangas (Samurai Deeper Kyo,Vagabond…), mais qui transparaît dans beaucoup d’autres car c’est l’apogée période d’or des samouraïs. Dès que vous entendez (enfin lisez plutôt mais on ne va pas jouer sur les mots) des noms comme Tokugawa, Yagyu ou Miyamoto Musashi,  ne cherchez pas, ce sont des références à cette période. Je vous conseille – petite note culturelle -  le roman “La Pierre et le Sabre” de Eiji Yoshikawa pour vous imprégner ce cette époque (et en plus ce livre envoie du pâté Henaff par paquet de douze).

Autre gros référent pour nos amis nippons, les bombes atomiques sur Hiroshima et Nagasaki en 1945. L’impact sur le pays a été énorme et a profondément marqué la conscience collective des japonais. On retrouve souvent la thématique de l’explosion / fin du monde / destruction de la Terre avec tout ce que ça engendre : mort, famine, plus de connexion internet…. Pour certains mangas c’est un élément déclencheur (Hokuto no Ken, Evangelion, XBlade, Psyren…), dans lesquels le monde est devenu un désert radioactif ou bien dans lesquels l’explosion a été un facteur de changement (rien de spécial => explosion => robots géants en armure). L’autre cas, très répandu,  est que les héros ont justement pour but de faire comme Bruce Willis et d’empêcher l’apocalypse prévue en défaisant le méchant dieu / savant fou / seigneur démoniaque – barrez la mention inutile  – comme dans les très bons Saint Seiya, X, Kamikaze….

Un point plus social, beaucoup de mangas « school life » aborde le sujet de la violence à l’école, qui est bien plus une réalité de tous les jours qu’en France (c’est bien plus dur que quand Kevin vous a piqué vos billes au CM2). Le fonctionnement  communautaire des classes et le respect de la hiérarchie des âges vraiment très prononcé fait qu’il y a beaucoup de clash, sans réelles interventions des enseignants (je vous conseille le toujours culte G.T.O pour  mieux comprendre). Cet aspect de la vie des lycéens est assez important pour que des mangas lui soit consacré (Crows, Worst…), et on le retrouve très souvent dans les mangas school life, même consacré aux filles (comme dans le très bon Vanilla Ice – oui je lis aussi des mangas pour filles, et alors).

Une chose qu’il faut aussi garder à l’esprit est la différence de religion. Les japonais sont majoritairement shintoïstes ou bouddhistes et cela transparaît dans les mangas. On retrouve en effet beaucoup de références aux fantômes / âmes / esprits (Bleach, Kekkaishi, Shaman King…), ainsi qu’une grande déférence pour les morts (offrandes sur les tombes, autels dans les maisons). Les personnes décédées ont pour eux un plus grand « poids », une plus grande action sur le monde des vivants – ce n’est pas juste qu’ils aiment se faire peur et effrayer le reste du monde avec des films comme The Ring que rien que d’en parler j’en ai la chair de poule.

Bon, il resterait plein de chose à dire sur ce qui nous sépare de nos amis nippons, mais cet article est déjà bien assez long alors qu’il vous reste tant de mangas à lire ou bien des choses intéressantes à faire comme éplucher des timbres ou collectionner les bouteilles de Banga mais là ça ne dépend plus de moi.

@ plus les amis.

Pictured is lost sections of printed TETHERED ROMANCE with my Deathnote army! I went digging yesterday, and this is what I found. I had a feeling that there was more story than what I had taped to the wall, and so it called to me, and instantly I knew just where to look for it……or something equally poetic but more logical.

Every summer I reunite with my Shinto roots.  I get the desire to live more Japanese than I normally do, and the need to surround myself with it.  Maybe it’s because I ride my bike everywhere I go instead of drive. TETHERED ROMANCE spans about four years over the entire plot line, and so I had the opportunity to write about Shinto rituals and celebrations for each season. Currently, I’m editing a section that contains a few scenes which take place during a Shinto New Year’s celebration (the New Year in winter).

Tokugawa Japan was very pro-Shinto, due to the Christianity outlaw imposed by the Shogunate. It was meant to draw the Japanese back to their roots, and revive the traditions and lifestyle that are uniquely Japanese. Seishin, the main character of TETHERED ROMANCE, often speaks of gods, and it’s easy to tell from the way he speaks that he practices Shinto. But it’s not so much a religion as it is simply a way of life with environmental anchors to bring Shintoists back to their roots when they need extra help. I won’t go into much more detail than that, though – if you’re interested in the Shinto practice there are plenty of resources on the web you can search!

Coming up is Tanabata, on July 7. But I’ll tell you all about that once it gets closer.

Pictured above is the making of our TETHERED ROMANCE photoshoot starring Nicole Wilk (pictured) as Charlotte Donahue and myself as Seishin. We have another TETHERED ROMANCE photoshoot in the works where I will be channeling Seishin as his Geisha side. Jev in a kimono with hair like she stuck her finger in something she shouldn’t have – aren’t you excited for that!

My week off of writing is complete as of yesterday, and I have to announce that I was less productive in my “vacation” than originally anticipated. PLUM TONIC will not be revealed yet – but it is close!

Today will begin the 4 month editing process of TETHERED ROMANCE beginning with it being hung on the wall. 4 months to edit a novel – it’s unheard of!!!! I’m so excited to have such a long time with this book because I absolutely love it and I want to spend as much time with it as I can before it reaches the public eye. It sure beats the two weeks I had to edit THE REALITY FILTER. 

So I would like to share some information with you. TETHERED ROMANCE is set in Tokugawa Japan for the first half. Did you know that Christianity was outlawed in Japan in the time of Tokugawa rule, in favour of reviving Japanese tradition and beliefs. Much emphasis was put on this revival once it was instated to control and reinforce the banning of Christianity brought by the Portuguese. Tokugawa rulers were known for being manipulative, and considering that Tokugawa Japan was divided by civil war, it was required. It was said to be an erotic and rich place, because the warriors needed rest and entertainment from battle, and the women were for the most part, divided from the men.

I’ll keep you posted~

I would like to highly recommend the book Hideyoshi by Mary Elizabeth Berry. It is the best academic work I have read on Toyotomi Hideyoshi, one of the most fascinating figures in the history of Japan and the world who made Osaka his base of power and played a crucial role in developing it into a thriving merchant town.
Hideyoshi was one of the three unifiers of Japan (the second, following the terrifying reign of Oda Nobunaga), and he brought together essentially the whole country in only a few years. Hideyoshi set a system in place that Tokugawa Ieyasu, who betrayed him and his son to take power after Hideyoshi’s death, would polish and use to usher in one of the most prosperous, stable, and culturally rich periods in Japanese history, the Edo Period (1600-1868).
Berry, who unfortunately has passed away, was one of the most talented Japanese historians of our time, and she not only spent a lot of time studying Hideyoshi, but Kyoto as well (which is where Hideyoshi spent most of his time when not on military or diplomatic campaigns around Japan). Hideyoshi, and his son and heir Hideyori, are two historical figures that are inseparably part of Osakan culture even today, and given the lack of English-language scholarship concerning Osaka and Hideyoshi, I consider Berry’s well-written and in-depth Hideyoshi a must-read for anyone who wants to understand Japanese culture on a deeper level. I can only hope that more historians will continue to write about the Toyotomi, and that a good book on Hideyori will also be written in the near future.

IN THIS FILM, 150 SAMURAI ARMED WITH SWORDS DEFEAT AN ARMY OF 10,000 MEN ARMED WITH REPEATING RIFLES.  PRETTY COOL STUFF.

http://pedrofeliz3b.wordpress.com/2009/03/03/christians-stoics-spartans-samurai-the-conquest-of-death/

Yesterday I went to a fabric shop in front of Horyuji temple. The place I went to doesn’t have an Internet site but the daughter of the woman who runs the shop also runs a store in Ginza, here, and the blog connected to the store, here. The middle daughter runs a store, also in Horyuji, here.

A kimono family. The top price setter I am told. The store I went to yesterday is very nicely done. Excellent decoration, the overall feel makes you want to learn more about fabric and kimono. Most of the items on display are far out of my price range even if I was in the market. Luckily I am licensed to go the auction that this woman runs in Kyoto. I have been once and plan to go back. The time I went I wrote this blog post, here. The prices at the auction are out of my range for some items but not all. The store she runs is for middle to top end collectors. I am sure there is a more rarefied stratum in museum circles but for the average punter there is enough to keep you occupied and broke. I saw kimono from the Tokugawa family, dyeing stencils from the Taisho era, and more things I have no idea what they were than I could count. It was the type of store that lets me know how little I know.

As my wife and I entered the very small shop we both noticed a guy already there talking away. When we came in he was using a lighted magnifying glass to look at a kimono. From the look and tone I took him as someone connected to the kimono trade and didn’t pay him much notice. We continued to look around for about ten minutes and it slowly dawned on me  he was using a kind of verbal jujitsu to block us from saying hello to the owner. My wife and I  have met the owner as we have been to her auction. I still didn’t pay much mind to the conversation and continued to look around. In the back of my mind was an incident that happened at this store or the store run by the middle daughter. About 6 months ago a man walked into the store and in front of the owner picked up a huge stack of fabric and walked out. The implication was that if the owner tried to stop him they would be in danger. As I was looking around the store yesterday I was running that through my head and thinking just who this guy with the magnifying glass was. We left after about 20 minutes as there was no way the guy was going to let us have a conversation with the owner and as we got into the car my wife said he was a maniac. In the Japanese usage of the word, kind of like someone who is obsessed with what ever. A true kimono maniac.

If you have visited Japan, perhaps you have noticed that people tend to pay attention to where they stand on an escalator: one side is for standing, one side is for walking. Now, if you live in Japan, you’ve surely figured out which side to stand on and which side to walk on…but have you really? While it is common knowledge to most Japanese, it may not be widely known to others that Kansai (especially Osaka) and Kanto have different escalator rules. My first sojourn in Japan was in Tokyo, and I learned to stand on the left and walk on the right; when I came to Osaka for the first time, I was confused to find that people here stand on the right and walk on the left. This tendency persists in the vicinity of and to the west of Osaka, and the Tokyo rules apply all around eastern Japan (as far as I know).

I have asked many people why this occurs, but nobody had any idea, so I searched the interwebs in Japanese and English and found the following theories:

• During the Tokugawa Period, Edo (now Tokyo) was a city of samurai, who preferred to be on the left so they could draw their swords easily. Osaka, on the other hand, was a city of rich merchants, who preferred to be on the right so they could protect their money and valuables. This was, of course, before escalators existed, and most samurai probably didn’t walk around looking for chances to cut people down. Not to mention many other holes in this theory.
• Osaka adopted the “American style” and Tokyo adopted the “British style.” I don’t know about the British, but I know that we have no established customs for using escalators in the United States. Furthermore, Tokyo is the one with more American cultural influence, not Osaka.
• Because Osaka wanted to be different.

The last possibility seems to be the least unlikely one, as Osaka and Tokyo are rivals, culturally and otherwise. But in the end, it’s still a total mystery to me. Additional theories are welcome.

At least you now know how to spot a Tokyoite in Kansai.

BONUS WALKING TIP: In Tokyo, bikes dodge pedestrians. In Osaka, you’d better move or be prepared to die when you hear that bike bell ding.

Le groupe électro-pop japonais Omadaka aime vraiment le 8-bit!

The Plum Song avec la voix du chanteur folk Akiko Omodaka. Tappei Maki a fait la direction artistique de ce clip hommage à l’époque d’Edo (de 1603 à 1868, parfois appelée période Tokugawa) et principalement à Yoshiwara, le quartier red light de la ville Edo, rebaptisée Tokyo en 1868.

Omodaka avait aussi fait un remix de Kokoriko Bushi, considérée comme la plus ancienne chanson japonaise. Kokoriko est un instrument à cordes.

Ils ont aussi fait un cool vidéo de leur chanson Yosawya-san

via BoingBoing

Hot off the press: Samurai underwear!

It’s made by a Tokyo-based company called Rogin (pronounced “rogue-in”) whose tagline is, “Underwear for men who fight to live”!

It’s a form-fitting long underwear whose colors and patterns are beautifully inspired by traditional kimono robes and Japanese Samurai family crests. I can describe it in one word: Hot.

On my last trip to Tokyo, I noticed more stores carrying T-shirts and hoodies decorated with old-school patterns. Underwear is a new one, but it totally brings out the Samurai sexiness in a guy. Washboard abs wouldn’t hurt either.

The company says they expect these boxer-briefs will appeal to the growing number of women interested in Japanese history. Late-night study sessions anyone?

Priced between $80-$90, each design is named after a famous Samurai warrior like Nobunaga Oda and Ieyasu Tokugawa. And the material seems to work like Uniqlo’s Heat-Tech line – it’s a breathable mesh that keeps you warm and soaks up dampness really well.

It’s cool to think millions of Japanese salarymen might be suiting up in these. Maybe now they can start sticking it to the man!

Himawari

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The Tokugawa Period:  An Overview of the Western Concept

My view of historical scholarship is an attempt to write about the events of the past and as such, it is dependant upon documents from the period(s) being studied.  I have also pointed out that many historians, particularly in the West tend to “cherry-pick” their documents, selecting records that tend to match their preconceived notions of history.  The result is that such written history fails, sometimes miserably, to provide clarity and truth.

I do not exempt Japanese historians from blame in this matter of imbalanced or distorted history, particularly in the portrayal of the Tokugawa Shōgunate and the period of Japanese history that it encompasses, 1603 to 1868; as a period marked by military dictatorship and oppression.  In viewing the Mieji Restoration and the years that followed, one can come to understand how such distortions were possible.  Meiji historians took on the attitude and viewpoint of the era, an obsession with Westernization.  The entire country was lost in all things Western:  Western culture, Western technology, Western politics, even Western scholarship.  What was past, what was “Tokugawa” was cast away as unenlightened and thus, of no value to the “New Japan” and the age of Enlightened Rule.

With the end of World War II, during the Showa Era, historians both in the West and in Japan, looked for reasons for the war.  Ultimately, their collective fingers pointed at the Tokugawa Period, not only as the Japanese dark ages, but as the root cause of the wars that followed the conclusion of that era.  Japanese feudalism was equated with authoritarianism rather than the Confucian concept of a decentralized political system as evidenced in the Zhou Dynasty, a concept idealized by the Tokugawa.  Certainly Japanese feudalism (hōken) was not compatible with liberal Western post-war views, often tainted by not so hidden traces of Marxism, political correctness and the European 18^th century “enlightened” view of Europe’s feudalism as their own dark ages.  These historians thus superimposed their viewpoint over Japanese history, tainting what lay beneath.

Western history, particularly that of Europe is viewed as having three major eras: a classical era, a feudal era, and a modern era.  Japanese history is far more complex, with a myriad of twists and turns, hundreds if not thousands of threads interwoven much the same as a fine tapestry.  To overlay Japanese history with the restricted views of Western scholarship simply does not work:  it is to ignore the depth and character  of Japanese history and culture.

In conclusion, one should be more inclined to view the Tokugawa Period as a forerunner of modern Japanese social and political concepts rather than as the dark depths of tyranny. The Tokugawa brought unity to Japan, for the first time, an actual feeling of nation and country, unique in the Asia and the world, which continues to live in contemporary Japanese values.

Copyright 2009 by H. Tokugawa.

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Musings on a View of History

kishamichi ni

hikuku kari tobu

tsukiyo kana

low over the railroad

wild geese flying –

a moonlight night

-Shiki

As I look through the sliding glass door of my refuge, filled with the volumes of Japan past which stir my imagination and answer my questions, only then give birth to new queries, I can see the cats at play in the garden; enjoying the day in their newly fluffed coats.  The old puss perches high up on the gate, surveying her domain, as though she is some ancient daimyō watching over her han (domain).  The two young ones dart here and there; games of hide-and-seek or perhaps imagining themselves as tigers in the wild; hiding in the now brown grass; waiting for some elusive prey to venture too close to their place of cover.  Occasionally one cat ventures out to the edge of the pond and looks in.  Yes, the koi are all still there in their places.  Then he’s off again to pounce on his preoccupied sibling who just found a mouse.  All too soon, the pond will be covered with ice, the ground will be blanketed in snow, and the garden mice will be safe in their nests below the porch.

One cannot help but to smile a bit at the moment, and then I look at the volumes of history that line the walls of my room and think about autumns long ago.  Did Tokugawa Ieyasu look out his window at Edo Castle, or later at Sanpu in Suruga, and see similar scenes?  Some might say no, he was without doubt too busy plotting and scheming.  I think he did see such things and probably thought deeply upon them in his later years.  Nevertheless, that is a difference in the viewing of history.

History is merely an attempt to write about events that belong to the past.  What is written depends on documents:  manuscripts, essays, and articles from the period being written about.  Modern-day topics and events are often regarded as being too ordinary and thus, unworthy of documentation except as television newsbytes or a few short columns in a newspaper.

I often find myself wondering how historians, perhaps two or three centuries from now, will regard the last few years, and especially this year of 2009, in viewing Japan or the United States.  Will they describe 2009 as a year when America began to once again find direction and to re-assume a position of world leadership, this time for the betterment of the world in general and in particular for its own citizens; or, will they perhaps hold 2009 up as enduring evidence that a once great notion grew too big to sustain itself and its ideals, and in the end failed?

Will they say that Japan continued its socio-political decline, and that its culture continued to erode, giving way to the forces of globalization, just as a beach is consumed by the waves of an approaching typhoon, or will they perhaps say that 2009 was a year when Japan, at last, broke free from the miasma from which it suffered, beginning at the end of World War II?  Did Japan at last find its feet and stand up to demand equity with the United States among the nations of the world and cast off its acquiescence to Western domination?

Recently I wrote a short essay on the topic of Bushidō and its core.  The article, much to my delight, stirred more than a little controversy and debate, which in itself, was a very good thing; for in my mind, such writing has little point unless it stirs thought and stimulates discussion.  The essay and resulting commentary became the subject of conversations among myself and other Japanese with a more than passing interest in Japanese culture and history.  Some were outraged by the views expressed by a group from the San Francisco Bay Area: others were simply dismayed.  More than one comment was made that they should “admit their shame and end their life.”  The comment was also made that some, whose samurai heritage had been insulted, would be more than willing to assist the group in the called for acts of seppuku.  Some may indeed by surprised that one’s samurai heritage can be insulted, more than one hundred and forty years after the conclusion (note I did not say fall) of the Tokugawa Era.  Most Japanese, even those who we might term as “liberals” are far more conservative than their American liberal cousins are.  Most Japanese still attach great significance to their family histories:  their clans and their samurai heritage.  That is being Japanese.

Certainly, the group, Asians Art Museum, which parodies the San Francisco Asian Art Museum, has every right to express their views and opinions; indeed, I encourage it.  Yet, the Japanese who read it and expressed their opinions to me, felt that the group’s views were tainted, that there was a certain “agenda” not too well hidden beneath their words:  expressions marked with an irony that does not translate to Japanese thought.

Among the Japanese students of Japanese history, none of my associates regard themselves as scholars but simply as students, since history is an unending process of study and analysis– a process we often engage in over coffee, tea, sake and snacks (we try to do things with a bit of flair), the view was frequently expressed that aspiring or pseudo-historians tend to notice or to select records which match their own pre-conceptions of the past and support (or can be bent to support) their own personal, revisionist agendas; that is,  they have an ax to grind.

Certainly there exits confusion about the complexities of Japanese history, even among Japanese.  In this particular case, however, we have Western historians giving interpretation to Japanese history.  In the West, modern historians still are greatly influenced by 18^th century theories of history and long-past Age of Enlightenment in Europe.  They still regard the European medieval age as the “dark ages” and as a corollary, the age of Japanese feudalism:  cruel, dark, dismal.  Certainly some Japanese historians and intellectuals (such as Nitobé Inazo) are equally as guilty of this view, having themselves imported ideals of Western feudalism and overlaying them on unique, Japanese concepts.  Add to that a certain taint of Marxism interlaced with the American penchant for political correctness, and the overall result becomes skewed.  A result is the compartmentalization of Japanese history into Japan’s “Classical Era,” Japan’s “Feudal Era” or Dark Ages, and the Modern or “Post-Tokugawa Era”, when it is far more complex than that.  This tends to perpetuate the selective (and often simplistic) reporting of history:  ignoring the complexities of Japanese history, which can be likened to the weaving of some fine tapestry.

Nevertheless, the overall result of the discussions was twofold.  First, that certainly, everyone should be free to express their thoughts and opinions, even though it may lack wisdom or good manners – expression is essential.  The second conclusion was that Japanese history and its interpretation should be left to Japanese, since the West is not equipped to understand and appreciate Japanese thought and the depth of Japanese culture and the intricacies of its history.

(To be continued)

-Tokugawa H.

Might seem like quite a sweeping generalisation to some, or a statement with real weight by others. Either way, it’s such a relevant and constant topic in all of my education about Japan that it seemed ideal for a first proper post.

I personally see the whole race as having a whole substrata of uniqueness, due in part to an incubation period of over 250 years at a time when the rest of the world was becoming more connected through science, medicine, culture etc. It did of course take a very innate level of uniqueness to literally close the doors to a slowly homogenising West. Even the Dutch only got a look-in in a very restricted, trade-based sense.

Most of what I’ve covered about the sakoku (鎖国) policy rates extreme wariness of the Christianising Portuguese and Spanish as the main motivation for such complete seclusion. I’ve also read that it may have been the alarm of a certain Tokugawa at the notion of a religion – a religious order, no less – promising to sweep through Japan like deforestation, leveling all the myriad ‘heathen’ shinto (神道) beliefs in its wake. However large a part this actually played, I think it showed a response as appropriate to Japan before the Edo period as it does now. The dizzying variety and detail that seem entropic to the West, are perfect order and necessity to the Japanese. What the West views as the cherry on top…well, the cherry makes the cake for the Japanese.

And why just one cherry on top? Pile those cherries on, because that cake is basically just something to prop up those wonderful, ever-loving cherries. As I read on becomingjapanese:

My girlfriend and her oldest daughter just had birthdays, and I tried making a Japanese style cake for them, which is traditionally a sponge cake with whipped cream and fruit.

My attempt seemed to turn out pretty good, although I could have probably added a lot more fruit on top…I’ll do better next time…

My fruit analogy fully belaboured, I guess I’m suggesting that it is those to-die-for details that immunize Japan from foreign-influenced burnout. I particularly thought this relating to a recent story about Takashi Murakami and a story on CNET Asia. I mention Murakami only in that no amount of exposure of his work to Western audiences seems to lessen their “that is insane!” reactions. Just check out some comments on his Louis Vuitton anime spot. Or Kanye West’s ingenious adoption of Murakami’s work to help elevate his own beyond a strictly hiphop/rap genre.

Apropos of this use of Japanese art and vision to elevate just about anything beyond the banal sanitation of labels and categorization, was Rick Martin’s piece on CNET Asia titled “Japan’s creativity paradox”. He writes:

…I see the ways that the “Imaginative Japan” injects life into the “Business Japan”…every AR company likely began with somebody watching an episode of Dennou Coil. It’s undeniable that Japan certainly has a flair for bringing the imaginary to life, be it a full-size Gundam, Tetsujin, or some wacky Hatsune Miku projects.

My new personal favorite is the crazy flying panties from the anime ‘Sora no Otoshimono’, which have now been made real by some really creative dude with way too much time on his hands.

Meh. Enough overanalyzing. Maybe it’s best just to sit back and enjoy the show.

I think Martin posed and answered the crux of my post here, albeit in a roundabout way. Is the dude who made the flying panties really any more time-wasting than the writers and animators of ‘Sora no Otoshimono’? No, not if you see enjoying the show as being the whole point of going to the show at all. And vis-à-vis, isn’t enjoying one’s self the only point to anything? Many Westerner’s say they can’t comprehend the seeming uniform duty and compliance when at work in Japan, with the equal commitment to pure abandon and fun when at play. The evidence suggests to me that uniform duty is a component of abandonment and nothing more to the Japanese. Work isn’t to be over-thought; at least not without dire loss of one’s humanity and Japaneseness. Rather, duty lies with the powerful and innate tides that pass as consistently between Japanese people as typhoons and earthquakes shape and characterise the archipelago.

I appreciate the urgency and concerns of Japanese intellectuals like Minoru Minorita, though more from a political and economic standpoint than creativity. It’s my own humble belief that Japan’s unique value for detail has always and will always keep 日本 as it’s own origin and source of creativity. Sometimes infuriating to foreigners, other times enchanting…I think Rick Martin was right. I’ll just sit back and enjoy.

Dr. Kacem Zoughari’s newest work, titled The Ninja (ISBN: 978-0-8048-3927-3), is expected from Tuttle Publishing  on December 10th,    2009. This book is written in English and promises to be the most thorough review of the history of Ninjutsu ever published outside of Japan. (click title to pre-order)