Basic Black

Vancouver to Tokyo beauty and squalor

I've been so homesick for Vancouver's landscape lately. Some of my happiest memories are flying along on my mountain bike on the new seawall near Coal Harbour, the morning light on the North Shore mountains. Yes, it is beautiful. Terminal City encroaches on the rain forest edge, but sometimes I wish it were the other way - the trees marching down into the city, the bears fishing from the landings, the eagles picking off the rats in the alleys.

It hurts when I remember the crappy things in Vancouver - the Downtown East Side, ground zero Wastings and Pain Streets (Hastings and Main on the street signs). The loss of the Woodwards building. The chrome and concrete anonymity of the buildings.

Mark Mushet in The Tyee documents the abject landscape of Vancouver. Oh, the photos take me back. Vancouver, like Tokyo, has little architectural heritage. But unlike Tokyo, Vancouver never suffered earthquakes or firebombing like Tokyo did. The city simply lost its classic buildings to progress. Artist Michael Kluckner has drawn, painted and documented the loss of Vancouver's heritage and the grim development of the city.

Tokyo's so ugly. You can see Aoiko's photos of ugly Japan. You won't see a temple or garden amongst those images. Urban Japan, Kanto especially, is one big jumble of parking lots, rice paddies, housing developments, factories and office towers. Looking out of the train window on the Joban Line, you won't see any buildings more than 20 years old. Everything is relatively new but tatty. Tokyo itself has some fantastic modern architecture. Mark Brown documents the glorious new buildings and public spaces in Tokyo's 23 wards.

My favorites are Omotesando Hills with its ever changing lighting facade rippling behind the keyaki trees, the Tokyo Opera City Tower, the expanse of different stone and gravel vistas with water all around so peaceful; the gleaming golden unchi (poop) atop the Asahi Beer Hall, visible from the Sumida River.

Ruined Japan

Back in 1999 when I lived in southern Ehime Prefecture, I lived at the foot of a mountain at the edge of the sleepy little city. Crushed against this mountain were houses, temples, cemeteries and some crumbling "public works", legacies of the bubble economy when huge amounts of cash were squandered on public art, culture halls and hideous sculptures.

Above my place was a neglected lookout tower with a rusty jungle gym that no kids played on. Only the local grumpy old men with their Onecup Ozeki sake would sit on the benches. A short walk from the abandoned beauty spot, there was a decrepit farm house built in the old style, clay over bamboo on a cedar frame. The plaster was falling away exposing the bamboo ribs of the walls. It looked like a half-eaten carcass to me, the roof a ratty mane of reeds and invading kudzu vines.

Metropolis this week features the phenomenon of ruined places in Japan. The splendour of the bubble economy of the late 80s is faded, the birthrate is falling off, and the rural population is mostly old farm people. That leaves a lot of abandoned, ruined buildings. Sometimes whole communities or recreation areas are forgotten.  Check out Gunkanjima, once a thriving island city, now completely abandoned.

I used to marvel at how Japan's rail system could get you anywhere, or at least within striking distance of where you want to go. I was stunned when I saw the photos of the Okutama Ropeway which is within Tokyo proper. There are places the tracks won't take you.

気楽流 Kiraku Adventure

Saturday began with a 5:30 wakeup so that I could make it to the Kasukabe Station to meet H Sensei, Duke and Punisher for 7 am. It's too bad the Punisher slept in. Our destination was the head dojo of Kiraku Ryu, presided over by Iijima Sensei.

Between Kasukabe and our destination in Maebashi, Gunma Prefecture, we ran into heavy traffic and were delayed. H sensei being the patient person he is, stopped at a highway rest station, and our first cultural experience of the day  was the impromptu bike show at Takasaka. November is fine weather to go riding, and people travel in convoy to get up into the mountains of Gunma and Saitama Prefectures. Riders mix it up. I saw a Ducati amongst some Harleys and Japanese touring bikes.

We were considerably delayed, and a little lost, by the time we got to Maebashi. H sensei and Duke are intensely curious and knowledgable about koryu budo, and I was there to support our M san whose bojutsu mania brought her to Iijima Sensei and to our Bujinkan training.

We were so late, the visitors and participants were already saying their goodbyes! Oh, well. We tried.

We were welcomed into the spacious dojo where we were plied with tea and sweets, and Iijima sensei proceeded to pull out treasure after treasure as he talked (he himself a trove of budo lore and knowledge) as we looked at Edo Period makimono from iaijutsu schools including Kiraku and Toda Ryu. Amongst the bound material he also had some works on strategy, war tactics, more things than I can describe here. I tried to read over H sensei's shoulder and got little meaning, but he said it was very hard for a Japanese to make out the kanji amongst the flowing script in some of the volumes.

Iijima sensei showed us his collection of weapons including kusarigama, various kinds of flail and pole combinations, and some expertly balanced bokken. Although he didn't show us technique, he gave us insight into the kinds of kamae done in this kind of sword work, showin us some of the drills and postures that he puts his students through.

He pulled out one book of a Japanese compendium of martial arts in many volumes and showed us a picture of the last Soke of Kiraku Ryu. What a magnificent, powerful, scary man caught by an expert photographer. I was really impressed by the explosive power, fine control and fierce presence this man embodied.

It was a long way to go to support M san but it was worth it for the adventure and the chance to meet such a knowledgeable martial artist and historian.

The Heart

Zen Dynamics provides a side by side romanized version of the Japanese language Heart Sutra, a sutra which I've posted on my blog before. Go see Nadja Van Ghelue's website about calligraphy to see a transliteration with the characters here and guidance on how to copy the sutra yourself.

Here's the whole thing in Chinese characters, romanized transcription of the reading as the Japanese see it, and English -

　摩訶般波羅蜜多心経
ma-ka-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-shin-gyou
The Great Heart of Wisdom Sutra

観自在菩薩行深般波羅蜜多時
kan-ji-zai-bo-satsu-gyou-jin-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ji
Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva while practicing deep Prajna Paramita

照見五薀皆空度一切苦厄
shou-ken-go-on-kai-kuu-do-is-sai-ku-yaku
Perceived all five skandhas were empty and was saved from suffering and distress

舍利子色不異空
sha-ri-shi-shiki-fu-i-kuu
Shariputra, form is no different from emptiness

空不異色
kuu-fu-i-shiki
Emptiness is no different from form

色即是空
shiki-soku-ze-kuu
That which is form is emptiness

空即是色
kuu-soku-ze-shiki
That which is emptiness is form

受想行識 亦復如是
juu-sou-gyou-shiki-yaku-bu-nyo-ze
Feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness, the same is true of these

舍利子是諸法空相
sha-ri-shi-ze-sho-hou-kuu-sou
Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness

不生不滅
fu-shou-fu-metsu
(They) do not appear or disappear

不垢不浄
fu-ku-fu-jou
are not tainted or pure

不増不減
fu-zou-fu-gen
do not increase or decrease

是故空中無色
ze-ko-kuu-chuu-mu-shiki
Therefore in emptiness no form,

無受想行識
mu-juu-sou-gyou-shiki
no feelings, perceptions, impulses, consciousness

無眼耳鼻舌身意
mu-gen-ni-bi-zes-shin-i
no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind

無色声香味触法
mu-shiki-shou-kou-mi-soku-hou
no color, sound, smell, taste, touch, object of mind

無限界乃至無意識界
mu-gen-kai-nai-shi-mu-i-shiki-kai
no realm of eyes and so forth until no realm of mind consciousness

無無明亦無無明尽
mu-mu-myou-yaku-mu-mu-myou-jin
no ignorance and also no extinction of ignorance

乃至無老死亦無老死尽
nai-shi-mu-rou-shi-yaku-mu-rou-shi-jin
and so forth until no old age and death and no extinction of old age and death

無苦集滅道
mu-ku-shuu-metsu-dou
no suffering, origination, stopping, path

無智亦無得
mu-chi-yaku-mu-toku
no cognition also no attainment

以無所得故
i-mu-sho-tok-ko
with nothing to attain

菩提薩埵依般若波羅蜜多故
bo-dai-sat-ta-e-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ko
the Bodhisattva depends upon Prajna Paramita

心無罣礙
shin-mu-ke-ge
and (his) mind is no hindrance

無罣礙故無有恐怖
mu-ke-ge-ko-mu-u-ku-fu
without any hindrance no fear exists

遠離一切顛倒無想
on-ri-is-sai-ten-dou-mu-sou
far apart from every inverted view

究竟涅槃
ku-kyou-ne-han
(he) dwells in Nirvana

三世諸仏
san-ze-shou-butsu
All Buddhas in the Three Worlds

依般若波羅蜜多故
e-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-ko
depend on Prajna Paramita

得阿耨多羅三藐三菩提
toku-a-noku-ta-ra-san-myaku-san-bo-dai
and attain complete unsurpassed enlightenment

故知般若波羅蜜多
ko-chi-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta
Therefore know the Prajna Paramita

是大神呪
ze-dai-jin-shu
is the great transcendent mantra

是大明呪
ze-dai-myou-shu
is the great bright mantra

是無上呪
ze-mu-jou-shu
is the utmost mantra

是無等等呪
ze-mu-tou-dou-shu
is the supreme mantra

能除一切苦真実不嘘
nou-jo-is-sai-ku-shin-jitsu-fu-ko
which is able to relieve all suffering and is true, not false

故説般若波羅蜜多呪
ko-setsu-han-nya-ha-ra-mi-ta-shu
so proclaim the Prajna Paramita mantra

即説呪曰
soku-setsu-shu-watsu
proclaim the mantra that says

揭諦揭諦波羅揭諦
gya-te-gya-te-ha-ra-gya-te
gone,gone, gone beyond

波羅僧揭諦菩提薩婆訶
ha-ra-sou-gya-te-bo-ji-so-wa-ka
gone all the way beyond, Bodhi Svaha!

般波心経
han-nya-shin-gyou
heart sutra

江ノ島 Enoshima day trip

I took the 江ノ電 Enoden Train line, which is this rinky-dink trolley that runs from Kamakura Station to Fujisawa Station. The creaky wooden floors and overhead wires make all Japanese riders sigh and whistfully say Natsukashii, which means something like nostalgia. When the doors open towards the Tokyo Bay side, that's really what you see - water and mountains. I was so craving some ocean air. I miss Vancouver's mountains and inlet which are close enough to home to visit every day. I'm lucky my job lets me get out in Kamakura once in a while to let me dip my feet in ocean water.

Enoshima is tatty, and it's not exactly a must-see for foreign vistitors, but it does have its charms. On the way from the train station to the island, there are restaurants and this old-fashioned arcade with classic pachinko machines. Cool!

The two guardian dragons of the island greet you on the walkway. Here's Benzaiten's seed syllable.

There are three major deities enshrined on Enoshima, syncretized local deities mixed with Benzaiten's imagery. Benzaiten, the Japanese version of Saraswati, is accompanied by three sister goddesses mentioned in kojiki -- Tagitsuhime-no-mikoto, Ichikishimahime and Tagirihime. There is a legend, Enoshima Engi, which tells the story of the origins of the shrine, a dragon who terrorizes the people and is rebuked, controlled and finally befriended by Benzaiten. There is an awesome manga version of the story The Five-headed Dragon and Benzaiten on the Shrine's website.

Pasmo-a-go-go!

This week on Kutaki No Mura, Derrick posted about the Pasmo and Suica compatible card systems for the trains, subways and even buses in the Kanto region.

Right now, I have to carry at least two cards  when I'm commuting. The first one is a Suica card, which combines a 定期券, teikiken, a kind of point to point period ticket, and a debit system. I usually put about 3000 yen at a time on my Suica card on top of the teikiken fare. When I range beyond the limit of the teikiken, the ticket gate deducts the difference from the card. This is only good for JR lines. In addition, I carry a Passnet Card, which is used by various private railways and subways. When I change from system to system, I have to stop at the gate, show the attendant, and he gives me a slip of paper to prove that I left the other gate. On some gates, I can slip the Passnet card into the ticket gate slot and wave the Suica card over the reader. This requires some coordination and though I've seen some people do a one-handed rendition of this manouever, I usually fumble and need both hands to do it. When I want to use either card again, I have to show the little man again, and he recalculates and deducts my fare from the card. All very time-consuming.

Starting on March 18th, the system will allow me to use the Suica card on any train or bus line in Kanto. This will help save some time changing between lines, and that counts for a lot when there are very short intervals between train schedules. Bus timetables may become more reliable as riders can get on and off quickly with the card system.

You can read more details at the JR East website here.

My little blue 定期入れ, teiki ire, or teiki card holder, is getting a little worn on the edges. Maybe it's time for a new one. Spring will be here so soon.

Woo, writing!

This spring, I'll be doing some academic writing, and in preparation, I've been doing some magazine writing.  Besides Momentum in Vancouver, I have also been writing for  Tokyo Notice Board, a weekly published and distributed across Kanto and the 'Net. Look down the column for the Tokyo Voices column.

This year, I've gotten a half dozen articles published around the planet. For bento money, mind you. But it's so much fun!

I must admit, though, that my editing skills need some polishing. Hence, the blog :)

Tokyo with new eyes

Friday night, the Phoenix's parents were in town after their visit to Kyoto and Hiroshima and other must see places in Japan. We got to meet and talk over dinner. We settled on a 定食 teishoku restaurant, which means a set meal with rice, miso soup, pickles, and either fish or vegetables or pork. This was their first introduction to natto, the fermented weird sticky bean stuff that most foreign folk hate, and I eat with gusto. They liked it!

Saturday, I did my usual regimen of training while Phoenix and clan went to Fujisan. On Sunday, we caught up again, this time in Shibuya, to check out typical Japanese curry, which they also liked. They're adventurous eaters and they don't flinch from spicy stuff. At a curry place in Shibuya Center Street, we had fiery hot chicken curry tempered with coleslaw.

I was surprised and pleased to hear what a good experience they were having. Strangers who saw them bewildered by maps helped them on their way, one even taking time out of his day to lead them in the right direction. They loved the food, the sight of Kyoto's golden temple, Kinkakuji, and Mrs. N even went clothes shopping. They both were pleased at how much cheaper Tokyo is than Stockholm, and noted that lots of prices were even 30% less here than in Sweden. They took full advantage of the ubiquitous Starbucks coffee shops for rests, considering Tokyo's coffee is half the price of Stockholm.

Yeep, I don't know if I want to travel to Stockholm with the yen so low.

We walked from Shibuya to Aoyamadori, past all kinds of architecture - the very modern Aoyama Park Tower, the weird sculpture in front of The Children's Castle, The United Nations University with it's monumental front and huge plaza, the small, friendly side streets behind Spiral, and under the ugly expressway at Nishi Azabu, finally to labyrinithine Roppongi Hills. We ended the evening back on the east side, near Ueno Station, at a Japanese kitschy sushi place with the waitresses dressed in kimono.

We had a great time, mixing up the cultures. With our sushi and yakitori, we drank a Chilean chardonnay, and we talked a long time about Japan and Sweden. What got me was their enthusiasm for and delight in Japan. It's their first time, and they laughed their way through the differences, and were exited by new experiences. The wonder of the evening was the fact that, in the weeks they've been here, this sushi restaurant on their last evening was the first one in which they'd had to take their shoes off. It was a pleasure to see them have such a good time in Japan. Smiling brings out all the good parts of the city of Tokyo, and the people, too.

Alas, they return to Stockholm today. But they're excited about coming back.

えっ！ Life whizzing by me

I caught cold this weekend, likely because I'm exhausting myself. Saturday morning was a genki kids' class, then laundry, cleaning and errands in the afternoon, followed by a gokon in the evening. What a whacky evening with my friends from Nagareyama, V and M and M's coworker Mr. T. M and T, who belong to the last generation of Japanese salaried workers for life, have been struggling with new regulations and software at work, trying to catch up with new global regulations designed to prevent another Enron mess. The software and guidelines are a mess anyway for these latter day samurai. All the policy and software is in English, and well, M's English comprehension is high, but Mr. T speaks virtually none. So, V had the bright idea to get all of us together, see if T will join her English class and see if we hit it off. She's ambitious, that V. We had a great evening over drinks and later ice cream and an improptu chorus line down a Matsudo city street.

Sunday was more tutoring and puttering, and I dreaded the train ride through Tokyo to Kamakura. The train ride isn't rough, exactly. I get a seat going up from Kamakura to Shinbashi, but damn it's long. Two hours door to door, four days a week.

New plan - a few times a month, I'll save myself the JR ordeal by staying in Kanagawa. Last night's stop was Yokohama Hostel Village in Kotobukicho, Yokohama City. What a slice of life. The hostel is actually a collection of buildings in the old day labourer's section of Kotobukicho, a gritty, busy neighbourhood across an elevated highway from Chinatown's north gate. Despite the neighbourhood association's conversion of old flophouses to hostels, the place still has its hardened hands and blue collar atmosphere. The building I stayed in, a seven storey walk up, was clean, well lit, and the corridors were lit with funky old ship's lanterns and candle lamps, and hung with hanga prints and framed printed cotton scarves. The room was a tiny three fresh tatami mats fournished with a tv, futon and clothing rack, all for the handsome sum of Y 3000 a night.

I felt completely comfortable walking in the drizzling dark streets, and made my way to Chinatown for a beer and a bowl of chop suey, which is called chukadon in Japanese at a quiet little restaurant in which I was the sole customer.

After I wandered in rain slick streets to Chinatown's Cayhane, pronounced Chai-ha-nay, a vast import shop which carries goods from central and south America, Africa and India. I've never seen such a broad selection of handmade clothing all in one place in Japan before. The shop is two storeys chock full of musical instruments, trinkets and clothes, and even has a book and music corner. They really know their stuff. And not everything is expensive, either.

After my wander, I needed warmed up so I went to the bathhouse right on the edge of Chinatown. On the way I heard a lot of Chinese spoken, even by the clerk behind the counter at the convenience store. The bathhouse was cheap and clean and nice, and I crashed out in front of the tv with a chuhai, zoning out watching some brush painting samurai write whispy hiragana on handmade paper. That's evening tv in Japan for you.

I got a good eight hours of sleep last night, but I'm still not on my game, with a mild head cold and accompanying headache, the first one this year. Merciful.

While I'm recovering, I'm knitting and memorizing  Liber Resh vel Helios. The knitting is meditation in itself, and memorizing Liber Resh has two purposes, to my mind. First, recognizing the cycle of the day, and second, getting me in the habit of memorizing texts. I have a desire to keep words, especially poetry and sacred texts. This one is short enough to retain easily, and doesn't intimidate me. Knitting a whole sweater does, and well, my first sweater is in fact a vest. Step by step, little by little.

佐助稲荷神社 Sasuke Inari Shrine

There is a little hiking path that arches over the back of Zeniarai Benten to Sasuke Inari Shrine, but it's not that well marked in either language. When I got to the top of the stairs behind the Benten trinket stand, an uncle carrying fishing gear told me to take the left fork in the path through a little neighbourhood street. When I got to the bottom of the lane, he called out to me to turn right. Local Kamakura people are used to all the tourists and they are quite friendly. This gives Kamakura a very small town feel.

Up the path of red flags, I met acid green spiders the size of my hand, little stone foxes bearing messages in their teeth, and the smiling priest sweeping the steps with a ratty whisk of a broom.  The shrine is dedicated to Inari after Yoritomo, the shogun who founded Kamakura, had recurring dreams about hermit who said he was at Kamakura. Yoritomo took the dream as a sign to rise up and defeat the Taira clan, his family's old enemy, and after the victory, a grotto was found in the mountain and he dedicated it to Inari, the god of agriculture. This makes sense that Yoritomo celebrated his vicotry with Inari - a shogun's wealth was counted in bales of rice.

Down the hill, through a tunnel and back to modern Kamakura to catch the train. 　江ノ島電鉄 Enoshima Railway, affectionately known as the Enoden, starts behind the JR Kamakura station. I caught these three modes of transportation while waiting for my Tokyo bound train ride.

All over Tokyo, you can see Higanbana,  either the creamy yellow or magenta variety. Higan, the autumnal equinox, the autumnal equinox, is a national holiday (as is the vernal equinox), and these flowers, a variety of amarylis, make their appearance right on time every year in the Kanto region.

The one thing that makes me desperately homesick for Japan when I'm away and brings me back every autumn is the scent of kinmokusei, the fragrant olive, which blooms in late September into October. It's nothing to look at - just miniscule, easily missed orange flowers hidden under the waxy green leaves of a hedge tree. When I walk out my front door, or up the hill to the school, the cloud of sweet perfume takes me back to the autumn of 1999 when I first lived in rural Japan, and I lose my sense of time and space, and suddenly I find myself in my mind's eye sitting seiza on the tatami of a tea room overlooking flaming maples and ginko.

Honeysuckle does this to me, too, taking me back the old farm house in White Rock, British Columbia where my family lived when my brother and I were teenagers. A breath of honeysuckle in a Kamakura lane brought me back to an August afternoon, stretching out on the porch with the family dog, a Rhodesian ridgeback, his soft, floppy ear in my hand, both of us drinking in the perfume of the honeysuckle vine that wound around the granite boulder in our garden.

Happy Autumnal Equinox. I savour all the amazing moments with my friends and teachers and students this year, and wish everybody a wonderful holiday tomorrow.