A Handful of Salt

Posted on 12/01/2015 by Luke

Sometimes in Japan (and the same can be said for life in general), I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Today, a red carpet has been placed in the middle of a busy road. Not only does this carpet obstruct many motorists who drive down here every day, but it actually stretches the entire length of Kappabashi Street – and Kappabashi Street is a very long street indeed. Is the head of state making a surprise visit? Is some type of awards ceremony about to take place, perhaps? Or is there no reason at all for this vermilion impediment? Only time can provide the answer.

For the last few months, I have been trying my hand at a little private English conversation practice with just one student—a 71-year-old Japanese man who has lived in Asakusa all his life. With a keen interest in food and Japanese history, he has provided me with an endless source of knowledge about post-war Japan and the changing attitudes amongst Japanese people. I enjoy teaching him, and our conversations often cover an array of topics, such as Bonseki, China Syndrome, and foods I’ve never heard of before in my life. Today, we are heading out to try such a food.

He drives us across Tokyo to Yotsuya. On the way, he starts a conversation with the dashboard of his Toyota, instantly reminding me of something from a science-fiction movie. In Yotsuya, we visit a shop called Ariakeya. The shop specialises in selling just one dish—a Japanese delight known as ‘tsukudani’.

If I were to ask anyone to name three foods associated with Japan, tsukudani probably wouldn’t even get a mention; and, if I’m completely honest, I had never heard of it until last week. Tsukudani most commonly involves seaweed, meat, or fish (often pond fish) that has been simmered in soy sauce and mirin. It can be eaten up to a year after it is made. Many years ago, this was a staple food in Japan, but due to its high salt content, it has become somewhat less popular, with concerns about salt being bad for health and such.

The woman in the shop is very pleasant and can speak excellent English; she has even prepared an English menu for me in anticipation of my arrival. I am offered samples of various dishes before settling on my favourite, Maguro—cubes of tuna. Soft, but surprisingly chewy at the same time, the outside is extremely salty but very sweet. The middle offers a dryness that you would expect from marinated cubes of cooked tuna. Overall, the fish is pleasantly moreish.

As we leave the shop, I notice a small tray of salt outside the entrance to a restaurant, guarded by a shisa—an Okinawan dragon. Curious about the purpose of this salt display, I ask my student. In his usual enthusiastic way, he explains to me that many years ago, the Emperor of China lived in a Palace so big that the only way he could get anywhere fast was to ride around on the back of a bull. Inside the Palace, the Emperor had three thousand women, each in separate rooms. Every night, the Emperor would tour the Palace on the back of his faithful bull and decide which woman he would spend the night with.

The women knew that the Emperor rode around on a male cow; I mean, everyone knew, it was hardly a secret. The women were all desperate to marry the Emperor, for the wealth and status they would receive if such a ceremony occurred. Finally being freed from their solitary rooms in the Palace was often considered a secondary incentive. Somehow, the women discovered that the bull liked eating salt, so every night, they would place saucers of salt outside their rooms. The bull would smell the salt, stop to eat, and hopefully, the Emperor would choose that room to spend the night. Somehow, this tradition of salt piles outside of rooms came over to Japan, and salt is now placed outside many restaurants. Bulls represent customers, or so the custom goes. The story made me wonder if the idiom ‘Like a bull in a china shop’ took any of its origin from the same story, but before I have time to ask, we are back in Asakusa, and I have a red carpet to inspect.

Back at Kappabashi Street, some women are singing in front of a man that I think is supposed to be a clown. Eventually, though, answers come, and the reason for the whole street being closed off becomes apparent.

A kappa (or at least a man dressed as one) follows the red carpet, walking the length of Kappabashi Street. The kappa stops intermittently to wave at the passing crowd, walking alongside an old woman carrying a scroll, and has a big red heart painted on its back. I have no idea why. No idea about any of this.

Back at home, I dine on my neatly wrapped packet of tuna cubes, which cost ¥432. Tsukudani is usually enjoyed with rice, but I will snack on this salty-sweet tuna as it is. Unfortunately, this type of food is not too pleasing on the eye; it might look like something you would serve to a domestic animal or a bull, but its taste suggests that this might be a bit of a waste. The tuna is, in fact, delicious and perhaps one of the best foods I have tried in months. The only problem, again, is the high salt content, but that shouldn’t put you off trying it at least once.

I seldom place links to other websites, but I genuinely enjoyed the food from Ariakeya, and they were very nice to me, so here is their shop:

http://www.ariakeya.com/

Wheel of Misfortune

Posted on 09/01/2015 by Luke

Today is the day that I finish my pilgrimage. One temple, one shrine, and the final two gods. I start off in the direction of Uguisudani. My previous attempt to find Motomishima Shrine here was marred by the fact that this area is a massive red-light district and couldn’t possibly be the location of a sacred shrine. Once again, as I stumble through alleyways of neon, I see no signs of a god; just prostitutes leaving hotels with presumably married Japanese men.

Eventually, I leave the area to find wireless Internet, stolen as always from a nearby Seven Eleven. I punch the name of the shrine into my GPS and am redirected to the same area I had previously wandered. It is an unusual location for a shrine, an area littered with over seventy love hotels, but somehow I find it sandwiched between Hotel Exe and Hotel Foxy.

Motomishima Shrine is home to Jurojin, the god of longevity. This deity is always accompanied by a wild deer, believed to symbolise long life. It is said that Jurojin shares the same body as another of the Seven Gods of Fortune, Fukurokuju, which, if you ask me, is a rather unfortunate fate.

It is fair to say that to reach this shrine, I had to jump through hoops. Inside, I walk through a hoop to reach the stone steps that lead to the god. Here, I pay my respects with a deep bow before taking my fortune for the last time this month, at a cost of ¥200. With all these fortune readings, it’s a surprise that I have any money left. Not to worry, though—I have a frog in my wallet, so all is well.

“Whoever caught this fortune, please read. Further increases the happiness if familiar, money will come to the body when you strive daily and today. We are been obtained by loss. Performing without effort for others is within the range of possibility, always! Rather than hit the thing with the one person that you are waiting for, poor is a small problem, this time. You do not have to worry only for those who carried out jointly because the immediate profit will go up with your results. If you move a large bowl, results should come out.

“Whatever you do for other people, always take action for things in the future. Make yourself aware. Concentrate at the entrance; are you aware of the limits of their fitness? Also, the energy from long illness in the future will see recovery gradually. Concentration will add enhancement, especially to enhance the energy. No effort should not be in vain. Come back to be sure of the joy of tomorrow.”

Confused as to what all this means, I leave the red-light district and head over to Hoshoji Temple.

Bishamonten stands guard here, carrying a scroll. Traditionally, he is the god of warriors and war, depicted with a spear and dressed in armour. However, the statue here deviates from the expected representation. Unfortunately, it is the only photograph I have of this temple, and I am certain I am in the right place. There are no signs of other statues of gods here, leaving me with no idea about the identity of this scroll-wielding warrior—most likely Shonin or someone else. No English signs, nothing else to guide me.

With all this good fortune flowing through my veins and having completed the pilgrimage of the Seven Gods of Fortune, one would expect that I’d actually receive some fortune. In reality, the opposite has occurred. Over the last few days, I have felt like a ghost, floating through life, completely devoid of any sense of belonging. Perhaps this is just a phase. A changing of the tides could erase all that I feel at this moment, and hopefully, that will happen. Maybe I should just move a large bowl. Right now, though, I am tired of walking around temples and shrines; it fills me with this strange empty feeling that is difficult to explain.

I wander back to Asakusa and am instantly drawn in by the flashing lights of a strange vending machine.

The machine costs just ¥100 and offers a chance to win excellent prizes. It’s called ‘Pocket Lifter,’ and presumably, it lifts money from my pocket by tricking me into thinking I can win one of the luxury prizes. Hidden behind its polished glass front are some trading cards, two Louis Vuitton purses, and tickets to Hanayashiki Amusement Park—the oldest amusement park in Japan. Despite seeing this park every day in Asakusa, I have yet to make the visit. However, Hanayashiki might have to wait a little while longer, as I am still somewhat traumatised by my recent visit to Tokyo Disneyland.

The machine says, ‘One-two-three-four-GET!’ Winning is as easy as counting. One of the Louis Vuitton purses can be won and sold for ¥8000 at a nearby shop, conveniently listed next to the prize—a gambling loophole once again exposed. Above the prizes, a wheel with bright flashing lights beckons, ‘Let’s Challenge!!’ How could I possibly resist? Keenly, I insert a ¥100 coin. ‘Thank you,’ the machine says as it swallows my money. The wheel spins and lands on the number one. The prize shelf moves up a fraction of an inch, then nothing happens. For a limited time only, I can get three tries for my money. I repeat the button-pressing process twice, and disappointment reoccurs twice more. No prizes, no amusement, no amusement park—just more bad fortune. Thanks, pilgrimage.

Flossed in Translation

Posted on 06/01/2015 by Luke

I wake up early and resume my pilgrimage. My first stop is Jueiji Temple, which happens to be five minutes from my house. Inside the temple sits Hotei. He is often described as fat and happy. He certainly appears very fat and happy, as he is the god of abundance and good health. Awkwardly, I join a queue of people with my camera out. Yesterday, I didn’t take any photographs of the actual gods; I was more caught up in the stories of the temples.

Today, I wait patiently as people before me offer their prayers. They place coins in the gaping mouth of Hotei, though he certainly doesn’t need anything else to eat. One person even starts rubbing the statue’s body with his hand. Eventually, it’s my turn. I quickly snap a photograph before leisurely descending the stone steps to exit the temple.

As I exit, a man chases me down the street. I stop, completely confused. He hands me a map of the pilgrimage trail. Brilliant, I think. No more confusing maps and getting lost. The only problem is that the map is written entirely in Japanese, and is therefore confusing and will most likely get me lost.

I head to my second stop, Shohoin Temple, also known as the Flying God Temple. I am here to meet the fourth god of seven, Ebisu. Ebisu is the god of fishers or merchants and is often depicted carrying a fish. In the temple, a sign says, “Ebisu is the god of candour, cheerfulness, and goog [sic] fortune.”

Sitting beside the god are two statues of Arhat. These represent individuals who have undergone enough religious training to become worthy after attaining enlightenment. Arhat is often used as an honorific title for those blessed persons who have realised the ultimate truth. While the reason for these two statues sitting beside the sacred god of fishing isn’t explained, at least this temple features some English text.

I head over to Ryusen, to Bentenin Temple. This temple is difficult to find, located basically in a children’s play park and quite tiny. There is no activity here, no other pilgrims in sight. It’s as if this temple has either been missed off the route, or everyone is wandering around the side streets in search of this sacred spot. With no sign of a god anywhere, I snap a photograph that might be, but probably isn’t, the goddess Benzaiten; the goddess of knowledge, art, beauty, and music.

The goddess is usually depicted carrying a musical instrument, but this statue isn’t, which is the reason for my doubt.

I head back to Asakusa. My pilgrimage is put on hold for another day, thanks to a trip to the dentist. I’ve now lost count of the number of times I’ve been to the dentist in Japan. It has become nothing more than a fortnightly inconvenience. Still, off I go, alone. As I sit in the waiting room at five to five, anticipating my half-past-four appointment, the wait is actually killing me.

An elderly woman enters, holding a wrapped present with a bow in tow. She hands it over to the receptionist, smiles, then bows. I find it unusual that someone would bring a present to the dentist. Next, a mother and daughter ask if they can ‘borrow’ one of the books for children. Again, a strange reason to make a visit to the dentist. Eventually, I am called, thirty minutes after my scheduled appointment time. Inside the ‘treatment room,’ the dentist holds up a gold bracelet that clearly belongs to a woman. “Luke-san, is this yours?” she asks, with genuine inquisition and lacking any sense of irony. What was supposed to be an amusing anecdote about dental floss has somehow descended into a gift-giving ceremony, a library, and a circus.

The dentist pulls out a ‘super sonic,’ as she calls it, and sprays water on my teeth. Next, she uses a scraping tool to clean, before finally flossing my teeth for me. Effectively, I have gone to the dentist to have my teeth brushed. Afterwards, the dentist gives me a packet of dental floss as a parting gift, wishes me a Happy New Year, and charges me just ¥740. Thank you, Japanese National Health Insurance.

I leave the dentist just as night begins to engulf the city. I head over to Senso-ji Temple. The crowds of people haven’t dispersed, and the New Year celebrations are still in full swing. For some reason, the first three days of the New Year are important days to visit temples and shrines, and because of this, queues of thousands are still waiting to pray for the first time this year. As I wander through the hordes of people, a man on stilts dressed as a giant sheep almost kicks me to the ground.

Still fatigued from seven days of intense sightseeing, I head home for another early night. Tomorrow, I will visit the final two gods of the pilgrimage, and finally, I can enjoy a much-needed break from exploring the city.

Lucky Number Seven Gods of Fortune

Posted on 05/01/2015 by Luke

Today, I attempt to go on a pilgrimage. Seven different gods, seven different temples, and no idea where to start. I head into Asakusa for a traditional Japanese breakfast and find that a Japanese New Year’s ritual is taking place outside my favourite izakaya. “Happy Merry Christmas after year,” the owner says to me, flashing his trademark ten-yen smile.

The ritual is mochi making. Mochi is sticky rice that is boiled, and when it is hit with a wooden mallet, it becomes soft. These rice cakes end up more like dumplings and are consumed during January. Some sort of stew is cooking in a big pot beside the mochi, but I have no idea if it’s relevant to the ritual or not.

After watching a man hit rice with a mallet for far too long, I decide to visit the first temple: Shingen-ji Temple in Iriya. This temple has two names; ‘Iriya no Kishibojin’ is the other name used, which just adds to my confusion. Inside the temple, I can hear the sound of monks chanting. Two young Japanese women dressed in kimonos pose for photographs. I wander to the temple, throw in some loose change, and pray.

The temple not only houses one of the seven gods but also Kishimojin, a goddess of children. Her story goes that she was once an evil goddess, snatching children and then eating them. One day, Gautama Buddha kidnapped the youngest son of this goddess, and it was only after experiencing the sorrow of losing a child that she became good. Now, she is worshipped as the guardian of childbirth and child-growing. However, she remains a criminal in my mind; all the children that she previously devoured have somehow been forgotten with her forgiveness.

Next to the temple sits Fukurokuju, the god of happiness, wealth, and longevity—the first of the seven gods that I am here to visit on this pilgrimage.

My second stop is Eishinji Temple, which enshrines Daikokuten, another of the seven gods of fortune. Daikokuten is considered to bring the belief of commercial prosperity. At the entrance, children play with spinning tops and badminton rackets. This temple gives me the opportunity to get my fortune for ¥200, and with me currently on a roll of good fortune from these things, I decide to participate once again.

The fortune I receive is huge. It contains three separate pieces of paper and one golden plastic frog.

“Average luck: Leading to the road of happiness will bless you if you have your own eyes open to the gods. Keeping the person in harm dear in my heart, will ensure that no harm is done, and the world will fit into the flame. With love, be aggressive. Take time to contemplate. The person you are waiting for will come, but will be very late. Don’t be impatient with your law suit. Contemplate. The lost article will be found and returned by someone with kindness. Be honest with money. If you are planning a trip, wait.”

As for the little golden frog, it should be placed in my wallet to ensure that money always comes back. There is also a mention of rakes and ovals, but I can’t understand what this means. Additionally, the fortune tells of magical eggplants, but again, I have no idea. “This lucky charm grants wishes and brings happiness. Please keep it always in your purse.”

At the temple exit, I study the slightly confusing map and head to temple number three.

Following the map, I end up at Onoterusaki Shrine. Although this shrine doesn’t house one of the seven lucky gods, I continue to explore it regardless. A monk on a balcony is hitting drums in a timely rhythm, and something about its calmness draws me inside. The shrine features a man-made imitation in the image of Mount Fuji.

Apparently, many Japanese people once believed that there was a god that lived inside the mountain; therefore, Mount Fuji became a place of worship for many religious groups. This particular Mount Fuji is called Fujizuka of Shitaya-Sakamoto and looks like a big pile of rocks. On July 1st every year, to celebrate the start of the climbing season of the actual Mount Fuji, this miniature mountain is open for the public to climb.

Onoterusaki Shrine is also dedicated to Ono-no-Takamura, a scholar of Chinese classics in the early years of the Heian period.

Scattered around the shrine are these unusual white arrows. I discover that these arrows are known as hamaya. The name is derived from a once dangerously popular game for children involving archery and target practice. Nowadays, these arrows, which translate to mean ‘Demon-breaking arrows,’ are a popular means to dispel evil spirits at the beginning of the New Year.

I leave the shrine and go in search of the third of the seven temples on the pilgrimage course. Temples with multiple names, maps that have no sense of scale, and a cold day of wandering around unfamiliar places. I end up in Uguisudani, an area that should contain one of the seven gods, but for me, the only things in and around the train station are love hotels.

I’ve been walking a lot this last week. Tired and slightly cold, I give up for the day. I head back to Minowa to rest my legs and tumble into a deep sleep.

Japanese New Year’s Day

Posted on 03/01/2015 by Luke

This morning, my plan is to wake up early to catch the first sunrise of the New Year. In my usual tardy fashion, I oversleep and wake up at 7 a.m. with the sun shining through my window. Always next year, I suppose. I head over to Asakusa to meet Christine. The fierce winds of last night have completely gone, but it is still cold outside. In fact, I might see my first Tokyo snow rather soon. I notice that the usual New Year’s Day kebab wrappers, vomit, people asleep in the gutter, and smashed beer bottles are missing from the street. Instead, people are cheerfully whistling on their way to work, and there isn’t a speck of litter on the immaculate Tokyo pavements.

I take Christine to the train station to see her off. Perhaps it’s tiredness or a hangover; who knows? But, I take her to the wrong train station. After rectifying my mistake, we rush to the correct station, but Christine misses her train by two minutes. Luckily, the next train will be arriving in half an hour, and she somehow manages to get to the airport in time for her flight. With the rest of the morning to kill, I head home to do a little writing before heading to Kudanshita Station.

I head over to Yasukuni Shrine and join the queue of thousands of other people there for Hatsumode.

Hatsumode is traditionally the first visit to a shrine of the New Year. During this visit, the first wish of the year is made, and it is said that this very first wish is always granted by the gods. The entrance to the shrine is lined with the usual market of delicious-smelling food—something to tempt me on the way out, no doubt.

After making my wish, I take a wander around Yasukuni Shrine. This shrine is steeped in controversy as it houses the spirits of people who died in combat while fighting for Japan in wars between 1867 and 1951. Additionally, the shrine honours the souls of deceased war criminals. There is a museum here where you can read letters written by kamikaze pilots that were left for their loved ones before they died.

After exploring the shrine, I decide to indulge in some sticks of fried cheese, along with my favourite street food: strange-looking but delicious yakisoba, layered in seaweed. I don’t care that my food looks like garden worms. ¥600 well spent.

I wander through the markets in the shrine and decide to purchase an omamori, a Japanese amulet sold at religious shrines. This talisman will find its place in my house, offering good fortune and protection from evil spirits. Next, I pay ¥100 to receive my second fortune of the year. Unfortunately for me, my fortune is written in Japanese. I attempt to translate it myself, and I get the following message:

“Whoever meets in this fortune is brought happiness that appeared by virtue of good people. I will be appearing, but the eye of devotion remains out of sight, like a ball hidden in the stone.”

On the way out of the temple, a man dressed as a dragon tries to ‘eat’ my head; apparently, this creature can devour the evil spirits residing inside me and cleanse my mind. Free sake is also offered, with donations welcome. I decide to leave the shrine and head back to Minowa to enjoy traditional New Year’s Day food.

My meal consists of shiitake mushrooms, carrots, lotus root, potatoes, burdock root, konnyaku, and taro potato, all generously given to me by one of the Japanese people who live in my apartment. The food is absolutely delicious.

After dinner, I decide to do something completely unrelated to Japanese New Year’s Day traditions. I open a cardboard stocking of weird snacks that my friend Marcus kindly gave me as a Christmas present. My snacks are as follows:

Tamago Boro, translating to mean ‘egg biscuits’, are crunchy round snacks that taste nothing like egg, only sugar. For no apparent reason, the packet features a giraffe kicking a football.

Chibichan Noodle claims, “Chicken I do eat as it is!” and suggests not adding any water. “Please make a sound when you eat. Pori pori.” Apparently, that’s the noise it makes when you chew on this treat. Imagine a packet of supermarket instant noodles that have been crushed. Add the little sachet of chicken seasoning, and then eat them raw. That’s what Chibichan Noodle tastes like to me. Horrible.

Pirate Candy: just seven individually wrapped orange-flavoured boiled sweets. Nothing exciting, and nothing that ties in with an association to pirates, as far as I can see. The Japanese text here says, “Let’s aim to reach Candy Island. Let’s go!

Abeseika Melon: these melon-flavoured snacks look like small headache tablets and have the texture of chalk. “Please enjoy as much as possible after opening!” Surprisingly, this is actually my favourite of the six snacks. The sweet quickly dissolves in my mouth, leaving behind a bitter lemon flavour and what can only be described as a ‘citrus blast’.

Kureyon Shin-chan: this snack features a popular anime character produced by TV Asahi. These little colourful balls of white, yellow, green, and orange taste just like gobstoppers. Perhaps they are. Oddly, the company that produces this particular snack is called Punishment, Inc. Although, I’ll happily admit that I have terrible translation skills.

Karappa: Finally, we have Karappa, which sounds to me like the English word ‘crap.’ This light and crunchy ring-shaped corn snack has the flavour of ‘famous’ Umauma Sauce. It has the same texture as Monster Munch and tastes a lot like beef. Although, I am led to believe Umauma Sauce is the flavour of horse meat.

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