Vacation part 6: Miyajima

After spending the day learning about the history of Hiroshima and the atomic bomb, it was nice to go to Miyajima island, where we saw deer, shrines, and an incredible view of the ocean and islands around the prefecture, which is located near the southern tip of Honshu, Japan's largest island. We took a short ferry there, and upon leaving the departure area, were immediately greeted by deer.

Already, this was turning out to be a good day. Just look at that adorable deer! You can hear my parents in the background making similar comments, too.

In Japan, the place most famous for deer is probably Nara, the capital city of Nara prefecture, where the deer have learned to bow in order to receive food. On Miyajima, the deer aren't that practiced in the ways of procuring meals--in fact, one of the rules regarding the deer is that you are not allowed to feed them, since they normally live off of vegetation and human food can make them ill. That doesn't stop them from trying, however. Although the deer are very accustomed to humans and casually walk among them (even though lots of kids stop to try and pet the deer and play with them), whenever someone has food they'll try to crane their necks up to reach it. But for someone who has only encountered deer as roadside casualties or pests that sneak into people's gardens, it felt very unique and exciting to be able to stand right beside a deer. I even got to pet one! Which, technically, is against the rules, but I saw other people doing it so I caved to conformity, and to my own personal desire to pet a deer without having to worry about ticks. 

After cooing over the deer and having them stare at us indifferently after they realized we had no food, we went to the main reason for our trip to Miyajima: Itsukushima Shrine, one of the more famous shrines in Japan and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Although it was originally constructed sometime in the 6th century, it was destroyed and rebuilt a few times, the current iteration dating back to the 16th century. It was built disconnected from the island, which itself is viewed as sacred, so that when the tide comes in, the shrine appears to be floating on the water. This confused me when we first arrived, because I saw pictures online of the shrine on the water, but since we arrived a low tide there was no water around the shrine, just the sand floor. Later on, though, I got to see the floating shrine I had expected!

However, the shrine is most famous for its large torii gate, called Otorii (which means 'big torii'). This gate stands at 16 meters (roughly 52 feet, for Americans like me), and is probably the most famous image of the island. It adorns mugs, shirts, and other paraphernalia, and is a unique symbol of Miyajima and Itsukushima Shrine. The torii, too, was built around the tide so that when the high tide comes it appears to be floating. At low tide it is supposedly reachable by foot, but I wasn't aware of that until I did some more research for this blog.

These are three of my favorite pictures of the Otorii, but I took a lot more! I wish I could have been closer to it to get a sense of its height, but as I hope these pictures show, even from afar it makes a striking image. 

Later on in the day, we decided to take the Miyajima ropeway, which takes people by lift up to Mount Misen. This was something I hadn't expected to do, but that we decided after finishing our exploration of Itsukushima Shrine. I'm glad we did; from Mount Misen, you get an incredible view of all the other islands around Hiroshima, and of the massive forestland that covers Miyajima island. 

Mount Misen was said to have been visited by a famous Buddhist monk in the year 806, and there is a temple on the mountain, as well as other attractions besides. Sadly, we didn't explore Mount Misen very diligently, because the ropeway operates on a tight schedule, and if we missed the last lift down we would have to descend the mountain by foot--something that none of us, after hours of walking, were willing to do. However, we did get to see the view from Mount Misen, which alone was well worth the trip.

Japan is an island, of course, but until seeing this view it never really sunk in for me. I had never really experienced Japan as an island before; although in Akita, I live in an area fairly close to the Japan Sea, I never really ventured towards there, nor have I ever really seen Japan in such a way that I could get a sense of its identity as an island nation. I have travelled largely on the mainland, not leaving the landmass of Honshu save for going to Miyajima. Japan always seemed like a solid landmass to me, but seeing this view of all the scattered islands in the seemingly endless expanse of ocean, I saw something that I'd never imagined before. I had never seen this sort of geography before Miyajima, not really. I've seen islands before, of course, but I never really had the experience of feeling like I was on one. That, or I was just too young to notice or care before. Probably that.

Basically, being able to see Japan from this perspective was very beautiful and I highly recommend it!

Miyajima was the last real tourist-y thing we did on the trip; the rest was a whirlwind of travel, and was exciting in an entirely different way. It's a long story, and one that I might tell later, but right now I lack the energy to write more. But the important thing is that we spent our time together, as a family, and saw lots of incredible sights that I never imagined being able to see before coming to Japan. 

I hope to never forget these sights and experiences, which, as I mentioned in an earlier post, is why I'm writing this to begin with. That, and boredom, but boredom doesn't sound as sophisticated. To the very few people, most of whom are likely my family members, who are reading my posts, thank you very much! I do enjoy writing, so I appreciate anyone who reads what I write and likes it. Or doesn't like it, but takes the time to read anyway. Either is fine. 

Ideally, I'd get to go back to all these places and see all that I wasn't able to see, because I know that there was so much left unseen and undone on this trip; there just wasn't enough time to explore everything, and we saw so many interesting things that we would have loved nothing more than to do just that. But realistically, that costs lots of money and takes lots of time, so I'm just thankful that I was able to see such incredible things and have such incredible experiences at least once in all these places that are so rich with history, culture, and beauty. 

Vacation part 5: Hiroshima and the atomic bomb

Before I came to Japan, my parents and I saw a Studio Ghibli film called Grave of the Fireflies. The movie is about a brother and a sister who are trying to survive as the Americans are launching air raids on Japan. The movie takes place in the city of Kobe, before the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

It's not the kind of movie you would expect from the studio that made My Neighbor Totoro (in fact, for some bizarre reason, this movie was originally shown as a double feature with My Neighbor Totoro, even though the movies could not possibly have more different tones). Sure, Studio Ghibli is known for making nuanced movies with environmental, anti-war messages such as Nausicaa: Valley of the Wind and Princess Mononoke, but Grave of the Fireflies is far more visceral and grounded in the heartbreaking bleakness of real life. It's quite possibly the most viscerally bleak movie I have ever seen. I won't go into detail, but I will say that I've never cried so much during a movie in my life--and I cry at almost any movie that's mildly tragic.

Why mention this on a blog post that's supposed to be about my vacation in Japan? Well, because my reasons for going to Hiroshima are partly rooted in this film. As I mentioned, it's not about the atomic bombing and doesn't even take place in Hiroshima, but it is a stark reminder of one of America's darkest moments in its brief, violent history, and of the uniquely horrific events that transpired in Japan during the second World War (although the film's says it's not an antiwar movie, oddly enough). It motivated me to want to travel to Hiroshima to learn about the atomic bombing and the history surrounding it. 

The sheer sadness of the movie also touched me, and perhaps part of the reason I wanted to see the Atomic Bomb Dome and Peace Museum was because I had some morbid desire to come closer to that tragedy. Watching Grave of the Fireflies filled me with a sensation I hadn't felt from any other movie, and perhaps what drew me to the history of Hiroshima's destruction and rebuilding was that sensation, a unique sense of tragedy that surrounds the Pacific War and World War 2. That may make me sound fairly shallow, to want to come closer to one of the most terrible events in modern history because I saw a movie. But any good movie is supposed to make you think about the real themes with which it grapples, and in that sense I would say that Grave of the Fireflies is one of the most powerful films I have ever seen, and one that I have no shame in citing as one of the reasons I wanted to travel throughout Japan.

So, to that end, the first thing my family and I did after arriving at Hiroshima (after storing our luggage at the hotel) was taking a shuttle bus out to the Atomic Bomb Dome. I had seen this building many times in photos during my Japanese language class; one of our lesson units focused on the Atomic Bomb Dome. I wanted to see it for real, and as it turned out, I found a lot more there than I expected. First, some pictures: 

I felt a mixture of emotions seeing the dome. On one hand, you can't help but be aware of the intense tragedy associated with it. This building represents what Hiroshima looked like after the bombing: desolate, ruined, with almost no remainder of the bustling city it was before. It held an important place in Japanese history long before the bombing; the Emperor even stayed there for a brief period of time during the Sino-Japanese war to plan strategy. Yet within the range of the bomb, almost everything was completely destroyed: buildings, homes, families, lives. 

Still the dome remains. Originally known as the Hiroshima Prefectural Commercial Exhibition Hall, it was designed by Czech architect Jan Letzel and completed in 1915. It went through various changes over the years, and changed names as well, but remained popular for its use for art exhibitions and other cultural events. However, during the war, it was taken over by various government agencies and repurposed for usage to further the war effort. It also happened to be under the spot where the bomb was dropped, and because of this, it managed to survive since the impact of the explosion went more outward than downward. 

Today, it seems that very little of the building has been changed, and rubble still remains lying on the ground around it. While metal support beams have been installed to prevent the poorly-supported building from collapsing on itself, it's remarkable how well it has held together with rather minimal outside interference, all things considered. In that sense, it's almost more of a hopeful symbol than a tragic one: even in the aftermath of war, we are not completely broken. Or something like that. 

Also, while my family and I were busy contemplating the horrors of war and lamenting how absolutely heartless us Americans were in dropping atomic bombs on a country that had all but surrendered, a cat came around to break the tension.

I made the picture extra big so the cat is visible, but it's still not the best picture, sadly.

Anyway, it was pretty bizarre: while we were feeling all sad, this adorable stray cat starts walking through the building as if it had no significance whatsoever. For the cat, it was just another obstacle to be overcome on its way to...well, probably food. Or maybe just somewhere to take a nap. As horrible as it seems to describe anything related to the atomic bombing as funny, there was definitely something funny about a random cat just casually strolling through the rubble of the Atomic Bomb Dome. Plus, it's hard to stay sad when cute cats are around.

Near the dome, my family and I found a man named Mito Kosei (I put the last name first, as is the Japanese style). Well, I say found, but it's not like he was hiding. He was surrounded by tourists like ourselves, asking him questions and reading the literature he had left for people. As I found out, he was an in-utero survivor of the atomic bombing; his mother was four months pregnant when the Americans dropped the bomb. She is still alive today.

For 12 years, he has been volunteering his time as a tour guide, giving people history and testimony about the bombing and its aftermath and preceding events, and helping people find less well-known historical spots relating to the bombing. He also has written a great deal about nuclear power, citing various disasters and near-disasters caused by nuclear power and nuclear weaponry, as well as information about recent efforts to create a nuclear-free, or at least nuclear-reduced, world. His dedication is incredible and has amassed a great deal of information and made his mission of a nuclear-free world very publicly known; he even met with the Prime Minister of Malaysia in 2009. He has a blog too, if anyone is interested in checking it out.

Here is the link: http://blog.livedoor.jp/mitokosei/

I had not expected to meet and get to briefly speak to a survivor of the atomic bombing, but I'm very glad to have had the chance. Because of him, I learned a great deal about the bombing, and about nuclear weapons, including the dismaying but not surprising lack of commitment that America has made towards reducing nuclear weapons; according to Mito-san's, information, the Obama administration spent 1 trillion dollars on bolstering America's nuclear arsenal, and the Trump administration is set to spend even more. 

After we visited the Atomic Bomb Dome, we went to the Peace Memorial Museum, where we learned even more about the bombing and the events leading up to it and following it, which were both distressing but also inspiring; so many people, both from Japan and internationally, devoted their efforts to helping survivors and raising awareness of the dangers of a world with nuclear weaponry. But at the same time, particularly as an American, it felt rather painful to read about just how calculated the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were. They were carried out with ruthless strategy, designed to cause the maximum amount of physical and psychological damage possible. Also, because of the American Occupations, news about the true nature and effects of the bombing were censored for years afterwards. As my dad noted, it's a wonder that the Japanese have welcomed American tourism and interest in Japan as readily as they have. I have to imagine that if the positions were reversed, and America was the victim of such an atrocity as we committed, us Americans would hold a much longer, more open grudge against our aggressors. I didn't take many pictures as I didn't know where it was allowed, but I don't know if I need any here. I think I've said all I really wanted to say. And I can only say so much; this is a place, I think, that is best experienced firsthand. 

Vacation part 4: Kyoto day 2

Today started with a tour of Kyoto. We got to see Ryoan-ji, a Zen temple known for its famous rock garden.

Kinkaku-ji, or the Golden Pavilion, a Buddhist temple with the top two stories covered almost entirely in gold leaf (gold hammered into thin sheets).

And a famous shrine described to us as honoring the god (or kami, to use the Japanese term) of studying.

I enjoyed these places, particularly the Golden Pavilion. It was incredibly crowded, by far the most crowded place we went to in Kyoto, and that made it very difficult to get a good view of the temple or to stay in one place for very long (the crowds were always shifting with people looking for good shots). Yet despite this, the beauty of the pavilion can't be denied or understated. I get the sense that Kinkaku-ji is one of those places so famous as to be oversaturated with tourists (like myself), but that doesn't make it any less remarkable. Built centuries ago, the original temple was burned down by a monk in the 20th century for unknown reasons, and what currently stands is a painstakingly accurate recreation. Unfortunately, only dignitaries, diplomats, and other such important types are allowed entry into the temple itself, so we had to be content with just pictures.

Just as enjoyable as the tour itself was our tour guide, a small, sprightly man who gave himself the nickname Casey (likely to make it easier for us foreigners to say his name). He walked around with a long carnation attached to a flag so we could see him in crowds, and joked about leaving us behind if we didn't get back to our tour bus in time. Needless to say, we had a very fun tour.

It also started snowing on our tour, so in addition to seeing many beautiful sights, there were snowflakes falling from the sky like sakura petals. I couldn't help thinking of the spring, and what Kyoto will look like when the cherry blossoms bloom, and I have to imagine that it looks something like what we saw that day in Kyoto. It was uncanny how much the snowflakes looked like flower petals, and it's unfortunate that they're too small and lightly colored to be really captured in photos. It kept snowing on and off throughout our day, and it always seemed that, at the moment when we stumbled upon a beautiful temple or garden, the snow would start up again. It created a visual effect that I had not at all expected to see, but added a small touch that made such a big difference in how I perceived the places we went to.

After our tour, we continued our journey by taking a bus down to a small but serene walking trail called the Philosopher's Path. That was yet another sight that begged to be seen in spring. Empty trees stood all along the path, and while they were beautiful in their own way, I felt a longing for the sight of them covered in blooming flowers. The sight of trees covered in cherry blossoms is perhaps one of the most prevalent and oversaturated in all of anime, so it always came to mind whenever I saw the empty winter trees. In this picture, if you look closely, you can make out the snowflakes falling, so I was very happy with it!

Near the Philosopher's Path is Ginkaku-ji, or the Silver Pavilion. I had heard earlier that this was a lesser known sister sight to Kinkaku-ji, but is ultimately more enjoyable because it is far less crowded and just as remarkable. The temple, despite the name's implications, is not actually silver-colored; it got its name because there were plans to coat it in silver, which were never put into action. That isn't so disappointing, however, because the real beauty of the temple lies in the painstakingly maintained garden around it. Moss covers the ground and hills, so rich and green it seems almost too perfect to be real. There is incredibly precise sand art around the path, which leads you slowly but expertly along the garden, giving you the perfect view of all the small details and touches that both humans and nature have made. At the tip of the garden path, you get a sprawling view of the city, which suddenly removes you from the confines of the temple and shows you the landscape beyond, the one large-scale spectacle in an otherwise subdued and self-contained natural environment. 

At Ginkaku-ji, it's not just that massive spectacle that awed us, but the culmination of all the little touches and careful design choices that created an incredible viewing experience. Walking through the temple was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before; it wasn't quite as raw as a hike through untouched natural landscapes, but rather than detract from the beauty, the handiwork of the people who maintain the site blended with it to create something incredible, a work of human genius woven into an already stunning natural landscape. I have always admired Japanese art for placing nature at center stage, while adding in touches of humanity's own creativity to bolster rather than overshadow the natural effect of the work. There always seems to be a humble understanding of humanity's subservience to and respect for natural forces, and this understanding allows for an aesthetic that relies on humans working around nature rather than working through it, taking advantage of and preserving the beauty and landscapes that occur naturally in the world. Ginkaku-ji is a testament to this skill and understanding.

Sadly, I didn't get many pictures because my phone died, but I'd have to be a much better photographer to do Gikaku-ji justice anyways.

Overall, a lot of what we enjoyed about Kyoto were the things we didn't quite plan out, but just happened to find through proximity and chance. That's the kind of place Kyoto felt like to me, one where there was so much to see and do that it would take weeks to travel around and do it all. Of course, it has its big famous spots, beloved by the Japanese and tourists alike, but Kyoto also has so much more, all sorts of places and history hidden around every corner that you could easily overlook in the face of everything else the city has to offer. I'm glad we didn't; if it were up to me, I would have just tried to visit the big places, but my family wanted to explore whatever looked interesting, and because of that we were able to find all sorts of places we might otherwise have missed. If there's one regret I have about our travels around Japan, it's that we didn't have at least one more day in Kyoto, because there is so much to discover there.

Vacation part 3: Kyoto day 1

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed being in Kyoto. I often heard about how Kyoto was the home of many a temple and shrine, offering a glimpse into the Japan of centuries past with its traditional architecture and famous tourist spots. It was, after all, the former Imperial capital of Japan, where the Emperor was once seated. It makes sense that Kyoto would have a great deal of history. But I had my doubts about whether Kyoto was all that it was claimed to be, or if it was just a tourist trap. 

My family and I ended up enjoying it a lot, so much so that I'd call it one of my best experiences in Japan thus far. Despite being one of Japan's larger cities, it felt much more accessible than Tokyo, and despite its size painstakingly maintains some of the most beautiful, historical places in Japan. But before I tell you that story, I have to tell you this story (I hope someone gets that reference).

Our first day in Kyoto wasn't that long; we arrived in the early afternoon and didn't have much of a plan, so we were able to go out on our own as we pleased. My dad found out about a spot called the Bamboo Forest, which we decided to check out after lunch. 

Unfortunately, we never found it, because I had the map and my sense of direction is unfortunately not the best. But we did find some unexpected and incredible places, all in the area of Arashiyama, a district in the west part of Kyoto. The first thing we noticed when getting to Arashiyama station was the abundance of colorful, patterned tubes. It was almost like walking into an artificial forest of sorts, and was fittingly called the Kimono Forest. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because the tubes contained patterns that would be found on kimono.

The tubes form a pathway that leads to a small pool of water that has a sphere with a dragon design resting on the top. 

Compared to everything else we saw in Japan, I wouldn't really describe it as spectacular, but the fact that we were able to stumble upon something this unique and interesting without even really trying was a pleasant surprise. The more we travelled around Kyoto, the more we got that feeling that there was something unexpected and exciting waiting at every turn; the city offers its massive, touristy famous spots, but at the same time there are so many smaller spots that are less known by no less wondrous, and that's truly what made our time in Kyoto so great: the things we didn't expect or know about.

Speaking of things we didn't know about, while walking around trying to find the Bamboo Forest in vain, we happened to stumble upon a UNESCO World Heritage site: Tenryu-ji, a Zen Buddhist temple. While we didn't see that much because it was going to close to the public soon after we found it, we did do some exploring, and just the fact that we stumbled on something as important as a World Heritage site while wandering around Kyoto was amazing enough for me.

Keeping with the theme of stumbling onto the unexpected, that night we also stumbled upon our dinner. As we were walking back to our hotel, I noticed a noodle restaurant and so we ate there. On top of having delicious noodles, it was also nice to eat there because it was one of the few experienced we had that, I felt, weren't particularly touristy. We weren't eating in some big restaurant, or something in a train station or somewhere that's heavily populated by tourist traffic. It was just a low-key noodle place; it had maybe ten or so tables in total and was pretty small, and just had various noodle dishes. Granted, the menus were in English, but it didn't feel like a place that went too far out of its way to appeal to tourists, just a typical Japanese restaurant. The only other person who came into the restaurant while we were there was an older woman. It reminded me of the local  restaurants I've been to back in America, ones that don't feel like they're made with the intention of catching as wide a clientele as possible but are just there, run by local people for other local people, without being made with loftier expectations in mind. It was a nice change of pace form the more crowded places we usually ate at, and we had some good noodles to boot!

Then, came the second day...which I'll go into in another post because a whole lot happened that day and I think it's got enough material to stand on its own. Plus, since classes haven't started yet and I've just been hanging on campus aimlessly the past few days, drudging up motivation to do anything is kind of hard. The first day of boredom feels like a nice release from responsibility, and it's fun to actually be able to literally do nothing of any importance whatsoever, but when the second day rolls around the appeal fades, and the boredom just becomes routine. And when boredom comes, apathy is close behind. But I won't delay too long because I need to write this stuff down as soon as possible before I forget anything! Already, I feel like I've forgotten important details in these posts that I should have posted.

Vacation part 2: Hakone and Mt. Fuji

Hakone is a mountain town located in Kanagawa prefecture, and is known as a very popular tourist site for viewing Mt. Fuji and a nice getaway from crowded Tokyo. That's exactly what it was for my family and I, who found it to be one of the highlights of our trip. It's also fairly cramped; the roads and all the houses are built around the slopes of the mountainous terrain. We constantly wondered how people could live here or even drive here; it just didn't look physically possible for larger cars and busses to make their way around the area without hitting some other car or crushing some poor pedestrian, but somehow they manage to do it. We experienced it firsthand, travelling by bus when we were going back to our hotel. A few times I was sure we were going to scrape the side of some building or hit some person walking by, but we never did. It really gave me a newfound respect for bus drivers in Japan!

From Hakone, we took a special train up the mountain to get to the Hakone ropeway, which would give us a view of Mt. Fuji. The train itself was very impressive, essentially scaling a mountain. At a few points I realized just how dangerous a position we were in--the train was going up the mountain at an angle, and if it got too steep I imagined that we might very well start sliding down and crash. But if this trip has taught me anything, it's that Japan's tourist business is impeccably designed and the country's engineering capabilities are exceptional. There's a lot of work that goes into maximizing the tourist experience both in terms of spectacle and safety.

After the train, we got off at a small rest point with a few shops, before getting on the funicular to get up to the ropeway. At the ropeway, we got into these small lifts that would take us across vast expanse of land to take us towards our view of Mt. Fuji.

At first, our view was blocked by mountains. The peak over which the lift would eventually pass loomed before us, and we waited to get to that point, eager to see what awaited on the other side.

I'd say it was worth the wait! It was just so cool to see Mt. Fuji in person; I'd been looking at it for half of my life: I saw it in anime, in the countless images of The Great Wave off Kanagawa painting that proliferate the internet and various consumer goods (a friend showed me a picture of that painting but with the waves replaced with pugs), and in other art besides. It was even better in person. 

If you look very, very closely at the picture, you can also see Japan's largest structure, Tokyo Skytree, off to the right of Mt. Fuji. It's this almost imperceptibly tiny line jutting up from behind a slope in front of Mt. Fuji. The fact that you can see it from all the way out in Hakone is impressive enough, but seeing it stand side-by-side with Mt. Fuji is even more so. It's just funny how something that looks so tall and imposing from close up can be made to seem almost insignificant in the face of something even larger.

Of course, Mt. Fuji is known more for its beauty than its size, and it was absolutely beautiful. On paper, it's just a mountain with a snowy cap, but something about it just touches the imagination.

It's easy to understand why so many Japanese artists spend their lives painting all the various different views of the mountain; The Great Wave off Kanagawa is just one in a series of 36 different paintings of views of Mt. Fuji--by a single artist! Here are some more pictures, cause words really can't do it justice.

The ropeway also took us over Owakuzawa, a crater created about 3,000 years ago. In 1910, heavy rains caused a landslide from the crater that took many lives. The Kanagawa prefectural government has thus been undergoing erosion-control work, and has been lining the mountainsides with stones and other materials to keep it stable. Even when we passed by it, we could see the vague shapes of people walking around along the paths and buildings built into the side of the crater, likely continuing that work. All around those paths, there were large clouds of gas containing sulfur dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, which are poisonous gasses according to the information bulletin we read. The people down below were probably wearing lots of protective gear, but seeing it from above we just marveled at how incredible it looked; probably from the sulfur, a lot of the area around the crater was this bright green color, and the gas made it look like 'the fires of industry' Saruman was talking about in the Fellowship of the Ring. It gave off quite the Mordor vibe (although he was referring to Isengard).

I can see Frodo and Sam climbing up that to get to Mount Doom.

That impressive display of gas and green mountain made it almost as fascinating a sight as Mt. Fuji itself, and we spent a lot of time checking it out and speculating about what kind of work was being done there (until we read about it).

Later that day, after descending from the mountain, we got to our hotel, which was a traditional Japanese inn (which are called ryokan). There, I got to experience my first onsen! It was very relaxing, and if I believed in that kind of stuff I would call it spiritual, but a better word would be serene. Hot springs are something else I had heard about and seen often in anime, and finally got the chance to experience, so it was almost cathartic in a way to be able to bathe in one. And for those who are familiar with onsen but have never tried one, the nakedness issue isn't really an issue at all. No one cares what anyone's wearing (or not wearing), they just want to relax! Sometimes people will just casually strike up conversations, too: a Japanese man and his two sons started talking to me and my dad, probably because he wanted them to practice their English and I don't think you get too many opportunities to do that in Japan.

I didn't get any pictures of the onsen because bringing my phone into a super wet area full of steam would have been a bad idea, especially without pockets to put it in, but I found a cool video about onsen rules and etiquette that was very helpful. Here's the link!

Vacation Part 1: Tokyo

First off, happy New Year! It's 2019, and a brand new year with brand new promises, or something like that. Really, to me, 2018 and 2019 blended together pretty seamlessly, but I hope everyone else had fun celebrating and has a lot to look forward to this new year!

I didn't really celebrate much, but that doesn't mean that I didn't have a spectacular end of 2018. My family came to visit me and we had a whirlwind 10-day trip around the country. Throughout the whole trip, I was wondering how to best remember all my experiences and immortalize all the sights I saw so I would never forget them. My dad and my sister were taking notes of our trip, which seemed to me the best way to remember--after all, that's how I study Japanese: write things over and over again until I remember them. Why couldn't I do the same for experiences? And since I made this blog, which I don't utilize nearly as often as I should, and have lots of free time till classes start up again, I thought I would do my writing here.

My family and I made five stops on our trip: Tokyo, Hakone, Kyoto, Hiroshima, and finally Akita. I figure I'll cover each place in an individual post because otherwise I would have a very long post on my hands that no one would read.

We started out in Tokyo, and went south through Honshu to get to Hakone, Kyoto, and Hiroshima. Finally, we retraced our steps back to Tokyo and from there ended at Akita. In this post I'll start where the excitement began: in Tokyo, one of the most exciting cities in the world.

Before meeting my family, I arrived in Tokyo with a friend, and we spent most of the day together. Our plan was to travel around and have fun, but that got derailed when I had an allergic reaction and had to go to a hospital. My friend ended up finding a hospital, getting me checked in, and even paying my hospital fee since I forgot my Japanese National Health Insurance card like a silly person and so I couldn't afford the whole fee. So that was not so much fun, and it was very embarrassing to be so dependent on someone else besides. But I did get to experience a Japanese hospital! It wasn't a sight I planned on seeing, but if you're in a foreign country you might as well get the whole experience.

Anyway, my adventures with my family didn't start till the next day. We went on a morning tour and saw Tokyo Tower, which was once the tallest structure in Japan till Tokyo Skytree was built in 2012. We also saw Senso-ji, a famous Buddhist temple, and the outside of the Imperial Palace. It was very cool to see these places, especially Senso-ji and Tokyo Tower, but the problem with tours is that they go so fast that you don't really have enough time to really explore a place. It's like watching the first hour of a really good movie and then losing power; it's fun, but definitely feels more than a little unfulfilling.

After that, we had leisure time to explore Tokyo on our own, so I decided to take my family to Shibuya to see the famous crosswalk. It was predictably crowded and crazy; even being in New York a couple of times, I don't think I experienced the sort of human congestion we found in Tokyo. It's a figurative sea of human bodies, all crammed together. It's not what I would call fun, but it is an experience in and of itself, and it was the bulk of my experience with Tokyo. But after wading through the treacherous Tokyo waters, we were able to find a nice spot to view the crosswalk and get some pictures, located in this shopping mall called Magnet. Here, I got some nice overhead shots of Shibuya.

It should also be pointed out that this was on Christmas, so that probably means it was more crowded than usual. Here are some more crowd shots from other places, too:

It looks even worse from ground level, and this is pretty much what we saw most of the day: the backs other people, spread as far as the eye could see, which really wasn't all that far cause of all the people. 

I wouldn't say that Tokyo was the highlight of my travels. I'm glad I saw it, but it's a very overwhelming place, and it didn't help that we weren't able to spend that much time here. I also noticed that in Tokyo, there was a very different atmosphere from the rest of Japan, and I can't quite decide whether that's good or bad. In the other places we went to, it felt that the traditional, unique aspects of Japan were very much alive, albeit with a tourist bent. I felt like I was in Japan in those places, experiencing the wonders of the country, which were being readily sold to me by employees and tour guides. I wouldn't say I experienced Japan at its absolutely most authentic, because I don't think a tourist can ever authentically experience another country. Rather than blending into it, tourists are very clearly outside of the country, and are allowing that country to be 'sold' to them by locals and attractions set up to draw them in. That's not to say I didn't absolutely love being a tourist and seeing some of the most popular and beautiful spectacles Japan has to offer, but it feels shallow to say I experienced 'authentic' Japan. Arguably, my life at AIU is more 'authentic' because I get to live in Japan without being catered to all of the time--just most of the time.

Anyway, back to my original point: while I got a sense of 'Japanese-ness' (whatever that is) from everywhere else I went, I didn't really get that from Tokyo, and especially not from Shibuya. Rather, Tokyo feels like a place that breaks from Japanese norms. It's a place where you have to be pushy, where rather than stumbling onto something spectacular, you are more likely to get lost in throngs of people if you don't know where you're going. It feels on one hand like any other massive city, but on the other hand doesn't really feel like anywhere at all. I imagined that I would view Tokyo similarly to New York, but it felt distinctly different to me. Perhaps it's because I just don't know Tokyo as well as New York, but I got the sense of being in some sort of limbo, some parallel realm between Japan and the rest of the world. Whatever the case, it's very easy to see the ethereal qualities of the city, and why it captures the interest and imagination of so many young Japanese, who have increasingly been migrating to Tokyo from other prefectures (not to mention the ever-growing number of foreign tourists). It feels like a place where everything resides and anything can happen because it lacks an identity of its own. The bizarre blend of Japan, and all its influences from the rest of the world, comes together in Tokyo to create something that feels so distinct as to lack any concrete sense of self. It's very unique and makes Tokyo feel like it offers a lot of freedom and promise, but it also feels so foreign and disconnected from everything else that it made me a little uncomfortable.

I think I'd like to go back to Tokyo at some point and experience it again. But when the time came to leave the city, I must confess that I was ready to go somewhere that felt more like being in Japan. 

Modern art is cool

ひさしぶりですね！

Okay, that was a little corny, but it has been quite some time since I've written on this blog. I wonder how professional bloggers manage to post on a schedule; once you lose motivation, it doesn't come back for a long time! Just like any writing I've done, I got kind of bored so I stopped posting on this blog, but currently I'm in the midst of a real life moment that's even more boring, so I decided to come back and post something. And besides, it's not like a month is all that long in the grand scheme of things. It just feels that way.

Part of the reason I stopped posting was because originally, I wanted to use this blog to kind of reflect on my journey of personal growth (or lack thereof) while I'm in Japan, but life hasn't proven as dramatic as I'd expected. After over three months of studying in Japan, I've come to feel like this is my life now, and I've settled into something of a routine. Unfortunately, real life not being a movie, it's not so easy to identify the pivotal points of personal growth. But that's not to say I haven't done some cool things in Japan worth sharing. I have, and I'd like to share one of them in this post!

Last Friday, I went to the city of Yokote, which is about an hour south of AIU by train. I wasn't expecting to go, but I spontaneously got invited, and had no reason not to, so it just kind of happened. And I'm glad it did! It's hardly big enough to be considered a city, but I really enjoyed my time there, largely owing to one particular place: The Akita Modern Art Museum.

I absolutely loved it there; I've always liked Japanese art more than Western art, and modern art is no exception. Even in the 20th and 21st centuries, Japanese art has retained staple characteristics of the Japanese aesthetic. Of course, it looks good when I write that, but I'm not an art critic, and all that really means is that Japanese art focuses on natural landscapes, and I prefer that to Western art which, in many cases, focuses on people and environments made by people. In contrast, even when Japanese art has people and human-made structures, they pale in size and importance to the natural world. Even in modern art, where the buildings and creations of humankind start to hold more prominence, the paintings I saw tended to show modern architecture either being taken over by nature, or standing on its own, devoid of people. One artist had a particular theme of painting empty, abandoned, human-made places (like rooms and stairwells, for example) with a single bird somewhere in the painting, which I thought was interesting. Another painted decaying buildings, overrun by growing plants, trees, animals, and general greenery. I would include pictures, but a lot of the exhibit prohibited photography, so I don't have that much to show.

Another exhibit I saw did allow some photography, so I'll start with photos from that exhibit.

I made these photos extra large so they'd be more visible, because they really are worth checking out. This exhibit was my favorite part of the museum for sure, although sadly it closed a few days ago. It was made by an artist born in Akita named Tomoko Konoike. My Japanese, unfortunately, was not god enough to read the plaques at the exhibit and the brochure that I took from the museum, but from what I could read and gather from the exhibit itself, she made this exhibit thinking about nature. A lot of the paintings have what seems to be a cycle of life theme, incorporating different organisms and natural scenery and occurrences in a way that they all seem to be connected. Although I didn't get any pictures of these particular pieces, a lot of her art also revolves around wolves, some of which have human appendages. The use of animal pelts creeped me out a little bit at first, but I got the sense that Konoike has a profound respect for nature, and a deep understanding of humanity's place within the natural cycle of life. 

I looked a little online, and found that a lot of her previous art revolves around similar themes. One of her more well-known pieces is a girl surrounded by floating wolves, with only her legs visible:

It looks pretty freaky, but I read a very interesting article (that I will link at the end of this post) that states the message of this work is more about protection and empowerment; the girl is strengthened, rather than contained, by the wolves. I just thought that was cool, and it seems to fit with the overall theme of Konoike's work. I can't tell if it's just because I'm naturally inclined to think that everything in Japan is more exotic, but her work struck a chord with me that never really gets struck by Western artists. I couldn't read what it was about, so theoretically I knew less about the exhibit than any I've seen in a Western museum, but the attachment I felt to Konoike's art was stronger than what I normally feel for Western works. The greater respect and awe that Japanese artists tend to have towards the natural world also instills Japanese art with a general sense of wonder that, again, Western works don't usually make me feel. 

Or maybe I'm just overreacting because of the sheer excitement of being in a foreign country, which I feel whenever I leave the AIU campus. 

Regardless, I loved the Akita Modern Art Museum, and I'd love to go back once their new exhibit opens in January!

Also, I had some Yokote yakisoba.

 

Japanese food continues to amaze me and my tastebuds! The dish is boiled noodles with a sunny-side-up egg, some beef, and a special sauce that I don't know, but tastes amazing. I can already tell that I'm gonna miss Japanese food so much when I leave...

I sort of pulled this post out of my brain in a frenzy of boredom and inspiration, so I hope it's not too boring or rushed. I just wanted to share my cool experience with Japanese modern art. On that topic, here's the link to the article about Tomoko Konoike if anyone is interested: https://metropolisjapan.com/dances-with-wolves/