The weekend turned out quasi-normal and generally comfortable for a change.
Shuzo took me to meet Japan's answer to Orlando Bloom (her words), Takuya and we went to Nara-machi (old Nara town). It turned out reasonably difficult to converse since, he was not fluent in English and I’m impossible with Japanese. So, Shuzo served as interpreter. Poor girl, I think it was hard on her part. But, Takuya was a storehouse of information I wanted to tap, since he majored in Japanese culture & food in his first degree at university/college. Now he’s studying to become an elementry school teacher and working part-time with Shuzo at Kashihara Movix. He would certainly be an interesting friend to have, a very unusual Japanese at that. He, in so many ways defies the Japanese groupthink and comformity. You will be very hard-pressed to find a young adult who would be interested in Japanese traditional culture. To quote Shuzo, "I'm not interested in Japan, history, culture or language. In fact, I'd much rather speak English. Japanese is too hard." Most of them don’t really seem to care, in part due to isolation. Who would blame them since I didn’t really give a hoot either about my ethnicity or historic culture until a few years ago and I still don’t know all that much either. Most of them just buy into and appropriate
Amerika. But, Takuya hasn’t gone away and while he bears the trappings of a young japanese man; Tommy Hilfiger watch, Ray Ban shades, Adidas trackshoes, city bug type car, R&B music and lights his Lucky Strikes with a Zippo, he’s incredibly interested in the history and culture of Japan. Just imagine how many questions I wanted to ask him about the culture and the food especially! Unfortunately I realised that any question I might ask would result in a labourious and tedious process of interpretation between English to Japanese to English again. Who knows what would be lost in that? So that was at times frustrating knowing he would know if only I could ask.
In Nara-machi, while walking around the old traditional houses and peeping into them, Shuzo met an old highschool friend whose parents owned a world heritage listed house which could be booked for special tours and lectures about traditional Japan during the time Nara was capital. Guess who got lucky? We got to see, not a replica, but the very real thing as it existed and lived in, a traditional japanese house. What was surprising (or maybe not so much if you thought about it) was that Shuzo whose a Nara native, has never once seen one of these on the inside in all her 24 years. Granted, Shuzo is obsessed (in a good way) about all things western. I suppose one might likewise ask me if I had ever seen a shophouse that our grandparents would had lived in. Ha! Yes!
The thing that wasn’t that great about this fantastic opportunity was that, it came in Japanese. Because there was so much of it to take in, Shuzo couldn’t interprete it enough and so at some point she stopped interpreting and I had to brain so much, trying to make head or tail out of Japanese, that it properly drained me. Finally, I just got bored because I couldn’t figure it out and my brain was tiring. But being the Japanese that they are, we couldn’t have turned it down and I certainly couldn’t have said “sorry, I’m bored. I’d like to leave. Could I at least sit down?”. So, I had to stand around, shifting my weight from one leg to another. But, all that said and done, when it was finished, it was an interesting tour and lecture. It was such an insight into the Japanese household, I was only envious it didn’t come in English.
The Japanese house is a maze of rooms and it never looks as big as it really is from the outside. Why? Japanese make big things out of entrances and appearences (notice a trend here?). Hence those jinja-torii’s outside the Shinto shrines. Those torii’s are the center of attraction at the shrines (indigenously Japanese). Whereas, in Buko (Buddhist) temples which originates from India & China, it is the pagodas and the statues on the inside of the temple grounds that gains most attention. Apparently, in those days, you paid tax according to the size of your door... so, the doors were tiny and the exterior always belied the extent of the threshold. They also do this great thing with indoor gardens which were very serene and pretty. As one door opened to another room, to another room, to another... I was more and more amazed at how it turned out. Pretty amazing was how the garden was located for one’s intimate pleasure within the inside of the house or at the back and not like the rolling gardens, lawned grass and well turned out flowers one drives through to drive in when at home. Yes. There is definitely beauty to be found in Japan, but it is hard to find. When I gazed upon the garden, the stone path, the leaves and the flowers, I was almost enviously asking, “why don’t I get to see more of this? This is what I want to see, what I came to see.” I guess, I was just asking to see beauty more often.
For dinner, Takuya, the japanese foodie who would happily indulge this foodie, took us to eat Tokyo-style
manja which is like Okonomiyaki but not. On to a very light batter, the general condiments for a meal of
okonomiyaki and ingredients of choice to choose from were added. We choose
mentaiko, which is like a spicy variety of cavair - very yummy-,
tako (squid) which I have grown to love and cheese amongst other things I cannot recall. It was cooked on a hotplate but never quite gained the consistency of a solid food product and you had to eat the thing off a miniature ladle. It was like, eating semi-solid
chye tow kuay (SE Asian carrot cake, which is not really cake at all and isn't made of carrot either but turnip or one from such like carrot family). In fact it was quite a bizarre meal which I didn’t get the hang off even at the end. You had to take a tiny bit (cause it was a tiny spoon thing), then pressed it against the hotplate to toast the exterior which then made the texture more sticky thanks to the
mochi and then take it into your mouth. And you constantly topped it up with some water to retain that gooey texture. Interesting as it is and as tasty and delicious as it was, it will not be my choice of food solely because its too
taihen (tiresome) to be eating off a miniture spatula to sate the speed of my tastebuds and eating an omlette of condiments at half-cooked consistency doesn’t quite appeal to my palate. But insightful it was to the food culture (of Tokyo?).
Japan's answer to Orly teaches me how to eat manja.
It looks like something else doesn't it? ;-)
Today was generally good too. Pastor Jeff said somethings which I gather he started thinking about after our conversation last week. He used the same examples as he did when we talked about the thing that was bugging me. Sunday arvo wasn’t spesh. The usual lunch and coffee then I took my time about Tsutaya for once because I wasn’t planning on going to the arvo service. I didn’t feel rested enough about my URTI and tonsillitis which I still think is lingering. So, coming home late arvo was good to chill out.
And you know you’ve reached a point, crossed a threshold when it seems “normal” or at least comfortable enough. I actually enjoyed being home this evening for once and got to do some indulgence like watch a couple of episodes of SATC which I rented from Tsutaya, make myself a bottle of fruit infusion: camomile, lemon balm, passion flower and Echinacea (how new age I know...) and put out some lavender candles and world music radio over the sounds of crickets in the field outside me, and a kettle green tea and cookies as I write this.
This, is
futsu.
Audio: Outerlude by Jamie Janover and Michael Masley on
Magnatune Shoutcast radio.
Biblio: Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami.
Cerebrio: Tokyo here I come on the Nozumi Shinkansen! The fastest bullet train!
