Kyoto

Prairie Post (Today from Kyoto)

by

Prairie Post

May 25, 2014

(Today from Kyoto)

It has warmed up a bit this last week, here in this city of tradition and splendor. The sun is beginning to dominate during the day, and everybody is aware that the rainy season is expected to take over soon. Humidity has set in, and all signs suggest that there will be an important shift in the weather pattern.

The older generation knows that it is time to work in their fields and gardens. Rice shoots are showing their green leaves and are flooded by artificial lakes of water. Tractors are driving through the muddy, water-covered fields to bring some order to the fields. Men and women wearing their conical rice hats tend the grounds to inspect the season’s crop and thin out the plants. Rice means life and livelihood in Japan.

Women in the city carry their summer parasols as shields from the sun’s damaging rays. Kimono wearers are choosing light fabric with beautiful summer flower designs. And the more modern inclined generation chooses high heels over comfortable sandals. They wobble one step at a time, they hold on to railings when walking up stairs, but they feel proud to master the art of high-heel quavering. This city is full of contrasts: Business people in their dark suits sit next to students in jeans and t-shirts. Women in kimonos walk next to tourists in shorts and sleeveless tops.  Every fashion is spotted here in the city.

The younger generation does not mind breaking some of the conventional rules. Oh no, there is a young man eating a sandwich in the subway. He sheepishly tries to hide the food in his bag, but we all saw this! Oh no, there is a young women who did not cover her shoulders. Perhaps she is just returning from the Western world. Did she think we would not notice? Oh no, there is a young man who receives a phone call in the subway. He jumps up from his seat and runs toward the corner. Too late, young man!  We heard the ring loud and clear.

Kyoto – the city of temples and castles, and shrines, and gates – Nijo castle shows all its splendor on this late spring afternoon. The gold-platen gate promises a grand place inside. The Togugawa Shoguns built this wonderful palace containing paintings of tigers and leopards crouching under protective pine trees, of hawks and egrets, searching their next meal. The tatami rooms open to the most beautiful garden of trees, lakes, and magnificent boulders.  How generous the space, covering more than 275,000 square meters.

And then we find the path leading to the Fushimi Inari gates; more than 30,000 torii gates, they say, lead to the top of the mountain, stairs up, stairs up, and more stairs up. We can only image what the guardian foxes would say. Inari is the God of Rice, so they plant a holy rice field here to honor the higher being. And then there are stairs, stairs up, up, and more stairs up. They walk through red-orange painted gates. It’s been said that the bright color scares evil away. As the path leads to the top of the mountain – oh, did we mention, stairs up, up, and more stairs up – hikers seem to become younger and younger the farther one follows the path – perhaps these steps lead to the path of youth? People at any age would be easily convinced to turn around after having passed through perhaps the first 18,000 gates. But they keep walking, and walking, and walking, stairs up, stairs up, and more stairs up, until they reach the shrine on top of the mountain. People come to pray, press their palms, clap twice, bow, and pray. People come to face the city and play the recorder, a contemplative melody that transcends through the woods. People come here to pronounce a life that is well lived, they blow a conch-shell horn as if they had an important announcement for the rest of the world. This is a special place, a path up a challenging mountain. After a brief rest, visitors slowly descent to the base, down the stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs down.

The longevity researchers who had come from all over the world have now left town after discussing their secrets. There was much debate about FOXO-3, about the importance of social support, about life satisfaction, and gender differences; there was discussion about frailty, the importance of leisure activity, and loneliness, the importance of dental care, quality of life and personality, and debate about culture, about eating regular full meals, particularly those containing leucine. A historian shared his unique finding: a proclamation of how the people of Nara were to treat centenarians around 900 anno domini.  At that time, centenarians were entitled to receive a whole year’s worth of rice on their birthday and they were authorized to be cared for by four caregivers (three if you were an octogenarian). What an incentive for long life, here, in this classic city where people still like to wear kimonos, where there are torii gates everywhere, and where young people like to bend the rules, if only from time to time.

Prairie Post (Today from Kyoto)

by

Prairie Post

January 25, 2014

(Today from Kyoto)

A nice warm-up this morning, in this traditional city of Japan, the sun is hiding behind clouds, and the mountains are barely visible in the back. Spring has not cleared the air but has warmed the city from the bottom up. Wild dog roses are blooming already here and there, and older couples are tending small gardens in front of the monorail station. The days are getting longer and there is cautious, palpable motion in the city.

There are people around, many people who run their weekend errands or who are headed toward the temples. They climb steep hills in the hopes to jump off Kiyomizu’s stage or to find the waterfall that allegedly brings longevity. They meander through parks and visit the Buddha who commemorates those who lost their lives in previous wars. They stop here and there to rest and to eat their udon noodles or rice bowls, and they drink tea, always green tea. Around them are women in beautiful kimonos, and there are white-faced geishas in this colorful, dressed up city, not the jeans-and shirts fashion of neighboring towns.

And they emphasize hygiene. There is no trash; people wear mouth masks to avoid the PM2.5 particles that bind with the sand blown over from China. They diligently clean handrails and tables, they sweep streets and pathways, and they provide guests with towelettes so they can clean up before each meal.  They enjoy their onsen, they shower, they steam, then shower, and they steam again. This is a country of hygiene and cleanliness, body and mind.

The grocery stores are also spotless, they are well-stocked, and organized. But what are these items displayed on shelves and on counters? There is fish, fish, and more fish – only, they are difficult to identify. Where is the salt and what does bouillon look like in this strange assortment of goods? Why are the apples and pears so big, okii desu, okii desu, yes these are apples. Is there only blueberry marmalade here, not raspberry or orange? Why is the white bread as thick as Texas toast and where is the meat?  Is there meat?  No butter here or is it simply packaged differently? And the beer, yes there is beer, but why is it so expensive? A beer tax to curb the alcohol lust?  So they drink happoshu or beer-flavored beverages, the third beer, all with lower malt content that is the basis for beer taxes here. Or they drink green tea, of course, but not all green tea is the same here, is it? And do Japanese ever drink milk? Why is there no cheese in this country? Or cold-cut meat, no cold-cuts, oh yes, I forgot the meager cooked ham slices that did find their way onto the shelves. But radishes, large, white radishes, leeks over leeks, bean sprouts and then again fish, so much unidentifiable fish everywhere, their names seemingly written in miniature calligraphy, not readable to the Western eye.

There does not seem to be advertisement for food or for drinks, and nobody carries soda drinks – this is not the land of Coca Cola. There is no advertisement for the Big Mac, for the Burger King or for Kentucky Fried Chicken. This country is not food-obsessed, food indoctrinated, or food-plagued. Eating comes naturally here, in the Far East, where the weather is already mild, where temples dominate the city and where confusion still rules in the grocery store.