Adventure 14: Takayama

1/2/09-1/4/09This past winter break, I took a trip to Takayama: a town in the Japanese Alps, rife with well preserved history. I went with a friend and we stayed in a hotel for two nights.

We set off on a Friday morning with a five-hour bus ride, passing through mountain lakes and alongside a wide green river. Near Takayama, we took a break at a rest stop deep in snow. The vast whiteness and snow smell brought fond memories of youth. Soon we drove deeper into the mountains and progressively deeper in snow and arrived at Takayama.

We got off the bus in a cloudy flurry, walked around town and made it back to the room an hour before sunset. There we made preparations for Shabbat, lit the candles and made Kiddush over some wine and challah from Rabbi Binyomin.

Shabbat morning we made a large Kiddush meal and set off for a day hike around town. Snow was packed on the ground, trees and buildings and the sky was cloudy. We went through a set of well-preserved old street homes. Their small stature and slick geometric architecture made me feel as if I was in a fairy tale of ancient Japan. Then we climbed a hill, saw a good view of the town and swerved through its thin streets for a long time. Eventually, we found a highland park with castle ruins. The trail up was lonesome and iches deep in snow. As we reached the white and eerily silent ruin grounds, it began to flurry. We stayed sometime in silence in the wondrous winter scene and then returned to the room for Havdallah.

The next day we awoke to fair skies, receding snow and clear views of the surrounding mountains. First we headed to a morning market of trinket booths and food stands. A popular new year’s treat named mitarashi dango (rice boiled and pounded into 3-6 marble-sized balls, coated with a mixture of soy sauce, sugar and spicy peppers, stacked on a chopstick, and then cooked over an open stove) was widely sold and eaten.

After, we headed to Hida no Taka, a village of preserved straw-roofed farm houses and then took a bus to a rotenburo, or outdoor hot spring, amidst cold air and mountain views.

After we took a set of trains and returned home, refreshed.

Matsusaki Family

On December 14th, I moved in with a new family in the town of Zushi (of which I plan to explore and write of in the future). Their name is Matsusaki and the members of the house include a grandfather, grandmother, their eldest daughter, her husband and their four year old son. I live with the grandparents, Oto-osan (father) and Oka-asan (mother) on the first floor and Kaori, Iwahito and Asahi live on the second floor. The inhabitants of each floor have their own entrance, kitchen and laundry and most often live and eat separately.

Oto-osan and Oka-asan also have two more daughters. The elder is married, has two young boys and lives within an hour away. The younger is a world traveler. She married an American and currently lives in England.

Oto-osan and Oka-asan are both retired and enjoy their own hobbies and spending time together. Oto-osan enjoys shodo, exercising and a bamboo club, where he helps preserve local bamboo forests once or twice a week. Oka-asan enjoys learning English, ping pong, and spending time with friends.

Oto-osan has been teaching me shodo nearly every night. He is knowledgeable of the art and “way” of shodo and uses his soft deep voice to teach profound lessons. For instance, last week I had a breakthrough. I made my personal best work with a set of characters that mean: “autumn storage, winter stock.” My initial idea was that I had reached an acceptable level on that set of characters and would move on to something new. To my surprise, Oto-osan insisted that I continue with “autumn storage, winter stock.” I made a few works but none were near the level of my “breakthrough.” Oto-osan stopped me and said, “First inspiration is best. Usually you are against your ability. Go beyond. No limit. This is shodo (writing way).” Such was striking, and broke my haughty complacency. I continued with increased concentration and made better and better pieces throughout the night.

Oka-asan is a great cook and sets a beautiful table with multiple plates. She has many multi-colored eye-catching dish sets and decorates the house with worldly art.

Iwahito, their son-in-law, was a heavy weight Judo champion in his youth. Currently, he works a library. Kaori takes care of Asahi and the house.

The eldest four are very gentle, but Asahi is a little spark plug. He runs around the house, jumping around and laughing loud, and crawls up into his father’s arms and buries his head like a little monkey. Sometimes, Asahi will run down the stairs to greet my return home from work or to say “goodnight.” He is a very smart boy and I hope to teach him a bit of English during my stay in the house.

The room I sleep in is of "traditional style." It has tatami (thatched floors) and shoji (paper windows) that glow in the morning. I continue to fold and put away a futon every morning and take it out every night. In one corner, there is a wall designated for scroll paintings. Each month Oka-asan changes the painting, giving the room a new feel. This month's painting is the above portrait of a small bird sitting on the branch of a plum blossom tree.

Living with the Matsusaki family has been a great blessing and I hope hope for many more happy days together.

Foliage of Japan

The Japanese have a great appreciation for nature, and particularly for the colors of autumn. During this time, the reds, yellows and oranges of the momigi (Japanese maple), ginko and various other deciduous trees set the landscapes and gardens afire.

The momigi is world famous for its hand-shaped leaves and its brilliant hot red color. Its trunk and branches are usually crooked and asymmetrical, but well balanced. Its thin branches wave and shake in the wind, but the leaves hold on until late December. Many leaves clench up like a fist and die on the branch, rather than allow the wind to detach them from their source. Because of their stunning beauty and smallish stature, the Japanese plant them near their homes and throughout their personal and public gardens.

The ginko has pale yellow fan-shaped leaves and grows to the size of an oak. The Japanese often plant them along roadsides and flank them next to momigi (making a striking yellow-red contrast).
My two favorite spots for foliage viewing were a small garden near the Chabad Tokyo house and from atop Takatori Mountain.

I visited the Tokyo garden about twice a Shabbat for five consecutive weeks in November and December, watching the change. I would stroll through and bask in its peaceful atmosphere, taking moments to sit and watch the sun set the momigi leaves aglow. At its entrance were tall ginko, standing like guardians. Past the entrance were 30 feet of rock steps, with momigi running along both sides. Within the garden were stepping stones, over a dozen momigi and a small pond at its center. The still surface of the pond reflected the autumn colors sharper and clearer than a direct view.

Takatori Mountain was an ideal spot for viewing the deciduous trees of the hills of Miura Peninsula. During my lunch hour, I would run up the trail to the lookout tower and pray amidst a sea of orange and green (and the occasional yellow of a ginko).

Now the leaves have fallen, and the clear skies, starry nights and cold breeze of the winter have arrived.

Chabad Japan

For the past months, I have continued my Jewish studies and Torah observance at a Chabad House in Tokyo. I have spent the weekly Shabbat, the holidays and some excursions with a very special family.

The family consists of Rabbi Binyomin, Rebbetzin Efrat, and their five children: Moshiach (approx 8), Zalman (approx 6), Chaya Mushka (approx 4), Pinchas (2) and Levi Yitzchak (8 months).

The Rabbi is fiery and immensely stringent in his Torah observance. He nearly always has a big bright smile on his face and seems to speak all the words that come to his mind. The Rebbetzin is wise and centered and does a fine job sustaining the innocence of the children (who are sheltered from TV and computer games and thus spend their days reading and playing with their imaginations). The firstborn, Moshiach is inquisitive and mature well beyond his years. Zalman, who looks and acts like his father, is wild and full of energy. Chaya Mushka, the lone daughter, is bashful to guests, but sings and dances with her brothers. Pinchas is strong willed and very happy when rested. (Once, when asked why he would want to go to Mt. Fuji, Pinchas responded, “to dance.”) Levi Yitzchak, the baby, is feisty and rarely cries for attention. The children have learned Hebrew and Yiddish from their parents, and learn English from the guests.

The family’s mission is to bring the light of religion to the Jews living in Japan and teach the ways of G-d to the Japanese (sometimes the Shabbat table will have as many Japanese as Jews). Their most admirable attributes are their kindness and sincerity. From what I have seen, they live true lives. They think as they speak and act as they believe. The family is very strong in their faith, and I have yet to see them flinch or compromise.

Keeping kosher in Japan is a challenge. They cook most of their own food, milk rural cows, slaughter chickens or cows for their meat and have their wine and other food products flown in bulk from abroad.
The story of Binyomin and Efrat in Japan began seven years ago, when they arrived in Tokyo with $400 in their pockets. To survive to this day, they have been supported and sustained by a string of miracles. One instance occurred a few years ago, when their landlord asked them to leave their home (due to noise complaints). As the deadline to leave approached, Binyomin was nearly out of options and walking with his Japanese friend Muto. Muto asked Binyomin, “Where is your G-d?” Binyomin patted him on the back and said, “Don’t worry, G-d always helps.” Within 30 seconds, a man pulled over his car, greeted them with “shalom,” and offered them a ride. The driver was a kind Japanese gentleman named Sakamoto with interest in Jewish composers and culture. Through the next moment’s conversation, Sakamoto (pictured here with Muto in NYC) heard of Binyomin’s plight, offered a free place to stay in Tokyo and ended up paying all the bills (except for the telephone) for one year.

When asked how long they plan to stay in Japan, the Rebbetzin responded, “Until (the messiah) comes.” Thank G-d that they are here, for they have been a refuge for me in difficult times and have helped many people.

Shodo

From the beginning of my stay in Japan, I understood that I would not be successful at learning the language within a year. I decided that the best way to learn about the culture and way of thinking would be through the study of an art. The art I chose, or more so the art that chose me, was calligraphy or shodo. I am very fortunate to have met and become the student of a very kind and proficient calligrapher and been able to practice with the Sekino family.

On the surface the art appears very simple, but its details are very complex. The artist draws a set of black lines on white paper to create the characters. To create a character is very easy, but to draw power and spirit into the character takes much skill and mastery. To achieve this, one spends long hours, focusing his or her mind and getting a complete control of the brush.

The first step in creating a work is meditation. One must clear his or her mind of the world and focus completely on each line. Once the proper mindset is achieved, the calligrapher, grinds the ink out a sumi or inkblock, dips in his or her brush, sharpens the angle of the brushtip and begins (the process of extracting the perfect amount of ink and readjusting the brushtip must be done between each stroke).

The major elements of each character or each set of characters are form, balance and spacing.

A work with good form has lines with proper shape, width and angle. Such determines the power or feeling of each character. For instance, the character for water, should have fluid and bending lines, while the lines for mountain should be strong and straight.

Good balance implies that the lines are in correct proportion to each other. If a character has too many lines off to one side, or has thick lines in one corner and thin in another, it is out of balance. A balanced character is a centered character, with equal weight above, below, to the right and to the left. If a calligrapher begins a character with thick lines, or a lot of weight to one side, he or she can compensate by making the subsequent lines thick or adding extra weight to the opposing side. Because of this, the work is not considered good or bad until the last line is drawn.

Good spacing means that the negative space of the paper is used well. This means (for the style that I have been working on) that the characters should be in the center of the paper, with proper space between themselves, the edges of the paper and the other character.

Creating a work with all three elements in harmony is very difficult. One can understand how complete focus is necessary to draw with all this in mind.

Thus far, the study of shodo has taught me much. It has taught me about the importance of focus and attention to details. The art has also opened my eyes to see balance, powerful forms and the use of negative space in the art and architecture of Japan. They can be seen in gardens, in flower arrangements or even by viewing the layouts of the towns from a mountaintop.

I hope to continue to study and create calligraphy, and plan to write more about what I have learned in the future.

(The characters from top to bottom are "freedom" (myself + reason), "water droplet" (water + dot) and "the sound of rain" (rain + sound).)

Adventure 11: Hakone

10/25/08 I awoke, took a set of trains (one with a clear view of Fujisan’s newly snow-capped peak) and a bus and arrived at Lake Ashino. I was very relieved to arrive in the nature, for the week prior was busy and unsettling.

As I arrived, the sun began to shine through the clouds and enlighten the waters and the wind whipped large ripples into the lake’s surface and loudly rustled the vegetation. The wild beauty of the moment brought me to a state of giddiness and I began to sing and skip along the lakeside.

I continued a few hundred feet along a stone path along the lake and took a seat on the beach. I watched the light flicker in the waves, took out the flute and played some soft slow music to accompany the sounds of gushing waves and rustling trees.

Afterwards, I took a paved road and a hiking trail up to the top of Mt Komagatake (1350m). The top had brilliant views of Lake Ashino, Sagami Bay, the beginnings of fall foliage and Fujisan (which had grey clouds covering its neck and head). I wanted to stay and take it in, but the wind was overpowering and too cold for my sweaty chest. This forced me to immediately head down through a pine forest, stepping over a trail filled with red, orange and yellow maple leaves, to a site called Owakudani. There, there was smoking volcanic gas rising from the hillside, a clearer view of Fujisan (whose head cloud slowly began to thin and vanish into the heavens) and the most powerful winds of the day.

I headed up the hillside and took a seat with a view of the huge lurking mass of Fujisan. In a moment of peace, I watched the clouds slowly dissipate above its head and the lines and patches of snow on its peak.

After, I headed back home. Refreshed.

Father' Visit

10/10/08-10/13/08Recently, my father visited Japan and we spent a three day weekend together. The following is an account of the visit.

He arrived on a Friday afternoon and took a train directly to Tokyo. After work, I went to meet him and we met with a long embracing hug.

We picked up our bags and headed to the Chabad House for Shabbat. There we were met with the great warmth and hospitality of the Rabbi, Rebbetzin and there five children. We sat at the table and ate, but Father went to bed early to sleep off the jetlag.

The next morning, we walked to a nearby Starbucks (which had just opened the week before) and talked for hours. (Much has happened in the family and the world since I left America and I needed to catch up. It appears that it is a time of great intensity and distrust. I feel fortunate to be out of it.)

In the afternoon, we returned for a Kiddush meal and then parted. In the evening we met again near his hotel and went for a walk in the windy autumn night. Before sleep, I spoke about the challenges and learning experience of Japan and what I plan to do in the future.

The next morning we awoke early, took a set of trains and picked up the Matty’s mobile. The day’s plan was to take a scenic drive around the east, south and west coasts of the Miura Peninsula. Our first destination was Yokosuka city. We parked the car, walked around a rose garden pier, through the downtown area and to an Italian restaurant for lunch. (This was the first time that I ate-out for non-Japanese food since May. The food was delicious.) After, we took the car around the coastline. We saw magnificent views of the green seaside cliffs, small fishing villages, and large fields of farmland. Before sunset, we arrived in Zushi, sat on the pier and watched the clouds darken and a group of children fishing on a nearby dock.

After, we headed to the Sekino’s house for dinner. There, we were greeted with warmth, hot green tea and a sushi dinner. We spoke of many topics and laughed a lot. Afterward, Sekino-san drove us to the train station, shook our hands and said “Goodbye.”

The next morning, we awoke and headed to Okutama Park. We took a set of trains, a bus and a cable car and arrived on a mountaintop. When we arrived, we took a moment to gaze upon the distant mountains and cities and the first signs of fall foliage. Then we headed on a hike to a waterfall, passing massive trees and temples. The waterfall was serene and inspired the following haiku:

Yellow and brown leaves,
And a waterfall’s cool breath.
It is all alive.

After, we headed back to the Tokyo Chabad house to see the family and the Sukkah for a short visit. Then I walked Father back to the train station, and we parted with a long embracing hug. He went to prepare for the week’s business meetings and I returned to the Sukkah to celebrate the holiday.