Marking Silver

Reflection (from return flight)

2009-06-12T12:05:00.001-07:00

6/8/09

On the plane coming to Japan, I wrote five major goals in my journal:

"1) Enhance my faith and fire for Jewish practice.
2) Sharpen my teaching ability and touch and better the knowledge of those I teach.
3) Walk with the highest of morals, sincerity and kindness.
4) Embrace Japanese culture through the study of an art.
5) Better posture, eating habits, driving speed and awareness."

As I look now, through His Help and experiences with people and places of a wide range of character, I see that they were nearly all accomplished.

I sit now, confident that I am stronger than I have ever been. There were many trials, mistakes and setbacks (My body is now feeling the effects of this. May He heal it quickly.), but there were also moments of grace and glory.

Through it all, I look at my self and see that I have changed in character, heart and habit.

The Japanese taught me grace and humility and the Israelis emboldened my will. Where my heart used to seek the edge and the exploration of the external, now I desire to settle and explore within. Also, habits of eating, cleanliness and prayer have changed for the better.

As I look ahead, much is to change. I seek to pioneer a new world, and will undoubtedly be faced with my hardest challenges to date.

I will complete this testament with the concluding words of the Adon Olam prayer: "the Lord is with me, I shall not fear."

Thursday and Friday Teaching

2009-05-25T00:24:00.000-07:00

Thursdays: Sobu and Yokodai. Fridays: Kaneriya and Yoshii

This Friday afternoon I completed my last class. It was the culmination of a whirlwind week. I said final "goodbyes" to students, prepared the new teacher, packed up and moved out. I sit now, relieved and ready for some rest.

Here, I would like to recount both the character of my Thursday and Friday classes.

The average Thursday began with high-energy Sobu assembly classes in the morning. After, I would have some time at the office to rest and prepare lessons and then head north to Yokodai. There I taught four classes above a dentist office near Yokodai station.

The classes had a wide range of personalities. Some were enthusiastic, some were highly intelligent, some were disinterested and some were sweet and gentle. The quality of the classes' learning would go in cycles. As the year went on, some would be joyful and progress rapidly for months at a time and then have a phase of indifference. I believe such was my own fault. My teaching act and style would grow stale over time, and I was constantly forced to create new ways to draw interest.

In the end, it kept the job very exciting and greatly enhanced my teaching ability and understanding of the nature of children.

Here I would like to speak of Kurumi, Ryo, Saki and Shunichi: four students that I will not soon forget.

Kurumi and Ryo were girls in the third or fourth grade. They were very sweet, good natured and retained much of the lessons. They would giggle at the jokes, sing the songs, and focus on learning.

Saki was a couple years older than Kurumi and Ryo. She was also very sweet and worked hard. Sadly, she was grouped with a disinterested girl that sucked a lot of the life out of the class. Even so, Saki overcame her influence and learned a great deal. She was a great pleasure throughout the year, and left me two sweet and well-decorated letters.

Shunichi was a tall Junior High School student with big hair. At times he felt like a big second grader. He was such a joy to have in class. His natural English ability was weak compared to others of his age, but he always tried hard. If we were alone in the class we would go through the songbook, singing everything from "Rudolph" to "Yellow Submarine." He worked very hard on his Speech Contest performance; making up for his level by learning emotional gestures and tones. In the end, he took the gold medal home. I was very proud of him. On his final day, he left me the following letter:

On Friday mornings I would head to Kaneriya Kindergarten for one lesson. Such was one of the happiest places I have ever been. The students would run to greet me and scream, "Hello," and the administrative staff would gladly sit me down and give me fruits and drinks. They put me in their staff yearbook picture and treated me as one of there own. On my last day, they rounded up the bulk of my students during their recess for a final "goodbye" and handed my a nice parting gift.
Friday afternoons, I had two classes in Yoshii. They were held in a small and well-decorated basement of a very kind woman named Mrs. Nakamura. Although we spoke little of the same language, Mrs Nakamura and I built a close relationship over the year. She served me drinks, introduced me to her sons and invited me to a fantastic Taiko drumming performance in Tokyo.

The first class was composed of as many as eight kindergarten students. At the beginning of the year, they were very difficult to control, but in time became my most interested class. They laughed hard whenever I changed the pitch of my voice and would fight to hold my hand during action lessons. They were a lot of fun and I cared for them as my very own children.

The second class was composed of four super-intelligent and lovely 1st-2nd grade girls [Mana, Hina, Chihiro and Yuna] and an intelligent class clown boy named Taisei. The girls would pick wild flowers and hand them to me at the beginning of the class, and sit attentively and absorb for the entire 40 minutes. They soared through the textbooks and learned and retained more than any other class.
In the end, I let go. I felt like I had completed my task and am now ready to move on. I received many letters and statements of appreciation from students and parents, and feel that nearly all were satisfied. Although, I was not in the best health or mindset for teaching in the final week, the Lord gave the strength to finish strong.

The sun has set on the Japanese teaching experience. May the coming rise arrive with His glory and inspiration.

Japanese Mikvot

2009-05-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months I have become accustomed to going to public baths, or sento, and/or hot springs, or onsen, about twice a week.
The sento’s indoor facilities include multiple skin-scorching baths with water spouts to massage the limbs and saunas. The experience includes the removal of all clothes in a locker room, crouching under a low showerhead to wash the body with soap and then submerging.

It is an ancient Jewish custom to purify by complete submersion in a body of water at least the size of a large outdoor hot tub. Today, it is a daily ritual for many to submerge in a well-heated mikvah before the morning prayers.

My most interesting mikvah experiences have come with Rabbi Binyomin. He tries to go almost every day and knows some of the most fascinating sento in Tokyo. One time he took me to a festival-themed sento. Once we entered, we were given festival robes and belts of nice traditional fabric and design. Then we took off our clothes, put on the robes and walked into a large room with food and game stands, large bright displays and hundreds of people walking around in nothing but the robes. From there we went into the locker room, undressed and entered a large bathing area with indoor/outdoor, clear and salt water baths and saunas. We spent some time and left. I was told that that Japanese will take there families there for a day trip. I imagine such a place can only be found in Japan.
Also, Japan has much underground volcanic activity. Such brings many hot springs, or onsen, to the surface. The Japanese have a particular affinity for bathing in them and have built indoor and outdoor facilities throughout Japan. (Wild monkeys also enjoy them and are often spotted bathing in the mountain pools.)

A personal high onsen experience came at a recent trip to Shikine Island. There, salty steaming waters arose from the beachfront. I read that its pools are believed to have healing effects on the skin and have been documented as having one of the best 100 views in Japan. I entered, stomached the heat and the salty sting on my flesh wounds, submerged and refreshed.

Binyomin describes the experience as being “born again.” The lifestyle in Japan occasionally wears down the body and/or spirit, and the mikveh has personally been a great resource of sustenance and renewal. May it continue to be so.

Wednesday Teaching: Takatori and Nokendai

2009-04-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

Teaching on Wednesday begins on the floor of the office cafeteria with a playroom class. For the breadth of the year, this encompassed three 2-3 year old students, their mothers and two toddlers. The students would sit and learn, while the mothers would spend half the class time keeping them focused and the other half chasing down the toddlers, who would walk around and find trouble. To keep there attention, the classes have been filled with singing, puppeteering and storybooks.

Through the year they have grown in many ways. One student, Yuna, kept silent and always clung to her mother. I challenged her every week to speak and detach. I didn't give her the weekly cookie until she responded "yes, please" and I made every effort to pull her away from her mother. After months of little improvement, she broke through. Now she holds my hand and is one of the loudest participants in the class.

Soon after, I drive a short distance north to Nokendai for two classes. The classroom, which is housed in a ballet studio, gives plenty of room for running and physical games. Such lightens the mood and is a great learning enhancer.

The first class is composed of five young elementary school-aged student. We play "throw, catch, bounce, roll" with a ball, race with "on your mark, get set, go," and tag while singing the "walking, walking." Such has not only made the class more enjoyable for all, but has built a close relationship between me and the students.

One of students name is Haruka. Her mother is intensely focused on her education. For the Speech Contest, I gave her private lessons and could tell that she was well practiced at home. On the day of the contest, she arrived with sharp garments and a bow in her hair, stood for a flawless performance and took home the first prize.

The second class was composed of as many as nine older elementary school-aged students, but will dwindle down to two in May. (This is because of soccer practice, extra studies and other activities of the full schedule that the Japanese assign for their children.) For the most part, they were all good-natured and well-prepared and progressed smoothly throughout the year.

The last three to remain are named Yuuki, Seira and Yuri. I mention their names here because I have grown quite fond of them. I imagine that one day in the distance I will read this, there faces will come to my mind and I will smile.

Sakura

2009-04-18T21:16:00.001-07:00

3/29/09-4/05/09

The sakura, or cherry blossoms, bloom annually for about one week. The tree holds a high mystique in Japan because of the exuberant beauty and transience of its flowers. The people keep an ear close to daily sakura blooming forecasts and have an old tradition of picnicking and drinking with family and friends under its blooming flowers.

My personal viewing has spanned many lands and times of day. The local street of Takatori Yama is lines on both sides with inward bending sakura that form a tunnel. Driving up and down the street on a sunny day felt like floating through the clouds. At night, I ran up and down the street, with neck back, gazing at the flowers glowing through the dusky street lamps.

On Shabbat I hiked out to the Imperial Palace. On the northern side there was a moat below two hillsides, both rife with downward leaning sakura. The whole area was flooded with people, picnicking or hiking through. Similar to the redness of momigi (maples), the whiteness of sakura is an unearthly site that brings on the feeling that one is in a lucid dream or vibrantly animated movie.

On Sunday I went to a park in Tsurumi, just south of Tokyo. It housed a set of lakes and hills of leaning sakura. There, I came across an open are, with a variety of colors of sakura and hundreds of people. There was a slow drum beat and a large circle of slow dancing and the singing. Such amidst the soft tones of picnicking families created an ethereal atmosphere.

On my way out I stopped to pray. Facing Jerusalem and an open view of a sakura-edged lake, I stood for a long moment of peace and gratitude. I thought of all the blessings of the "season" in Japan and how I have been moved to change for the better.

Thank G-d, the land and spirit of the culture has been fertile soil, the wide breadth of great people that I have met have planted an abundance of well-timed seeds, and the Blessed Holy One brought the rain. May all remain so, and the days finish in health and strength.

Japanese Baseball

2009-03-30T18:13:00.001-07:00

3/29/09
This past Sunday I took a train up to Saitama to see a preseason baseball game at the Seibu Dome. The Seibu Lions were hosting the Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

I was taken by Brad and Jordan: two brothers who are taking their last semester of law school together at Temple University in Tokyo. Brad is soft spoken with a strong athletic frame and Jordan is a big teddy bear of a man, who has no fear to say or do the outrageous at any moment. They invited me at the Chabad House and we took the train north together.

We took four sets of trains and arrived at the shining silver dome after noon. As we approached, we could hear the roar of the crowd, the beating of drums and loud unified cheers. Upon entering, I was engulfed in the sweet fruits of the values of Japanese culture.

(These values, which do not always taste sweet, but have a beautiful appearance, are unity, harmony, professionalism and attention to detail. To keep a unified and harmonious society, Japanese are very polite, wary of the opinions of others and stray from speaking of controversial issues that may lead to argument [i.e. politics]. Such is one strong internal mechanism that keeps the society peaceful and efficient. Also professionalism and attention to detail are very important. For example, I have seen a parking attendant team, dressed up in sharp uniforms and communicating with walkie-talkies, flag a car into a spot with the same intensity and focus as a flight ground crew bringing down an emergency snowstorm landing of the President of the United States of America.)

The ideals of unity and harmony were on full display from the moment we walked in. The team’s colors of sky blue and white could be seen throughout the dome, from the bathroom walls, to the clothing and faces of the fans. Also, the “bleacher” section was filled with loud and inspirited fans, who had a large array of megaphone-led unified chants, songs, dances and carried large flags and banners. At one point, the entire section took out blue umbrellas and danced and chanted in a nearly professionally choreographed manner. They would cheer loudly as the pitches were delivered and explode with joy on good outcomes. They were always positive, never booing the other team or disrespecting their players. It gave the feeling that the fans were actually a part of the wholeness of the team: the body was on the field, but the spirit was in the stands.

Professionalism and attention to detail could be seen on the field. The players displayed great technical skills and perfect form even while practicing between innings. They all seemed to know exactly how to act in each situation and I did not see one mental mistake throughout the game.

Although our tickets were in another location, Brad and Jordan could not stay far from the effusive buzz of the “bleacher” section. There they made quick friends with the fans, learned the cheers and dances, waved blue flags and acted as wildly as possible. At one point, Jordan picked up a fan on his back, shook him and roared.

The Lions won the game 9-6. After the game we stayed for a pep rally of drumming, flag waving and cheers and headed home. On the way, Brad and I spoke about favorite prayers and I offered him to put on my Teffilin. He agreed and, just as the sun was setting, he and his brother strapped on the holy black boxes, faced Jerusalem and had moments of peace. Soon after we parted, in gratitude.

Tuesday Teaching: Kamio-oka

2009-03-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

On Tuesdays, I travel north again to an urban suburb of Yokohama named Kamio-oka. The classroom is located in the city center, near major train and subway stations, sprawling commercial areas and a river.

The commute usually entails a 40 minute drive in tight traffic. I try to make the best of it by singing Shabbat melodies and listening to Eagle 810 (the military’s radio station).

Upon arrival, I carry my bag of props up a flight of stairs to a small room. The room sits above a small art gallery, run by a cheerful　little woman with large glasses.　　When I pass, she bows low and smiles, saying few words.

The first class is comprised of four playful students of early elementary school age. When I arrive, they are usually hiding behind the door or in the side room. They wait for me to find them, laugh very loud and then the class begins. In this class, the stamp competition became particularly close and heated. The boys combined for one team and the girls for the other. Going into the final day, the score was Boys 269 – Girls 266. The lesson was filled with stamp opportunities, and stayed intensely close. The deciding factor was a game of team tic-tac-toe for two stamps. It came down to the final question, and the girls won. After counting all the stamps, the final score was Girls 291 – Boys 289. The girls let out a great cry, I gave them their reward (pictured above) and handed the boys a second-place prize. They all left in high spirits, unaware that they had just been pushed to personal highs in learning.

The next class contains two mild and disciplined older elementary school aged students. It is easy to get them to passively repeat phrases, but penetrating the English into their minds takes effort. I try to add in more games and movement to make it interesting and occasionally I will lighten the mood and get some smiles. The fruits of the effort have been much progression and enjoyment from all parties.

After they leave, I have a 50 minute break to explore Kamio-oka. I usually walk through the thin streets, tasting the distinct flavor of Japanese urban life. Squeezed together within a few acres of land, there are flower and vegetable stands, large department stores, “pleasure” shops, pachinko (slot machine) parlors and high and low class restaurants. I pass flocks of neatly-dressed and homogeneous Japanese, walking fast with heads down, all nice and orderly. After, I recite the evening prayers and prepare for the incoming students.

The third class is composed of junior high and high school students. Two have spent time studying English in America

and all are very advanced. They have studied English in school and their vocabulary and grammar is strong. Because of this my lessons focus less on the words themselves, but on conversation.

Many are naturally shy and need to be pushed to use their knowledge when they speak. We read and repeat textbook sentences together to get good pronunciation and word flow. In addition to this, we have practiced Star Wars dialogues to encourage loud and emotional conversation. This has brought much enjoyment and has advanced their bravery and speaking ability a great deal.

After, I give the boys a “youth-style” handshake, pack up and take the long road back.

The semester ended this week. Some old students will be leaving and new students will be coming. I have become close to many, and it will be sad to see them go. However, I am confident that each has advanced their English and grown in ways they had not expected.

Of the Ascent

2009-03-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

The winter brought a great fire that moved my heart and its desires for the future. Its impact brought great inspiration to accelerate my religious practice.

A twist in fate brought an early leaving date from the Matsuzaki Home and a soon-coming move back to the Matty's Dorm. I decided to take the opportunity to begin a stricter observance of the kosher eating laws.

(This means to not only forgo eating pig or shellfish, but all that is produced without the strict observance of a Rabbi specialist. Because of this, I will be getting most of my food from the Chabad Houses in Tokyo. In order to kosher cooking and eating utensils, they must be purchased anew, immersed in a body of water [at least the size of a large hot tub], and blessed.)

On the night after Purim, I set out on the task of koshering newly purchased cooking and eating utensils. I packed the large front basket of my bike with a glass, bowl, spoon, chopstick set, knife, cutting board, a pan and its cover and three plastic containers and headed to Zushi Beach.

Winter had not fully let go, and there was a strong wind and slight chill in the air. The moon was full and peaking in and out from behind a partly overcast sky.

As I rode onward, I felt very strong. I was fulfilling a command of G-d; on a mission from the Most High.

I arrived at the beach. It was desolate. The clouds were intense and the wind was howling. Afternoon showers left the sand soft and wet and a 20 foot long, two inch deep pool between the naked sand and the shoreline.

I had no choice but to take off my shoes and socks and wade through. As I laid down the bike and made three sets of piles, the clouds parted and the moon shined in full brilliance.

Then I walked in with prayer book in hand. It was dark and difficult to stay dry, but thankfully nothing was lost or damaged. I immersed the vessels, loudly recited the blessings above the waves and wind and headed home. I did not feel cold for a moment.

Back at the house, I went straight to the shower and washed the sand off myself and that which I had just blessed.

As I dried them off, the vessels appeared to glisten. Soon after I went to sleep, with a sated heart.

Love and sacrifice feed each other.

Shodo (Part II)

2009-03-03T04:54:00.000-08:00

As written earlier, I have been practicing calligraphy with my home stay father, or Oto-osan. He has introduced me to a style and set of techniques that have taken my ability to the next level.

The style is a mix between kai-sho (common script) and gyo-sho (cursive script) and includes four characters on one page.

This format has also introduced me to the Japanese art of the four character idiom. The following is the meanings of works of this page (top right, bottom right, top left, bottom left). “No break, No bend.” “One will, master (of) the heart.” “Taiko (Drumming), soul beating.” and “Initial will, penetrates the completion.”

Oto-osan taught me a number of techniques that have greatly increased the quality of my work. The most important is the step-by-step process of making each individual stroke. First, push the brush down from a 90 degree angle, hold for one second, then move and pause for one second at the end and lift up. (I believe such is good guidance for handling the ventures of life. First, pause for contemplation and decide the right course of action. Then move forward without looking back. At the end, take a moment to make sure everything went well and then move on.)

As we learn, Oto-osan often spouts pearls of brilliant wisdom and inspiration with his low deep voice. He has said, “write small, looks big,” “continue is power,” and “concentrate, practice, concentrate, practice.”

One night he told me, “flavorman, is a gentleman.” At the time, I nodded and laughed, but didn’t understand what he meant until after much contemplation.

I always envisioned flavor as the “bam” spice of Emeril Legasse, which is anything but what we think of as gentle. After thinking further, I understood that flavor is not dependent on extremes of hotness or sweetness.

Flavor is a refined taste that comes from harmony with and consideration of the other foods. Something stolid、dry and innovative has no flavor, but neither does an overpowering spice.

In the same way, a person could have a fiery personality, and bring loud laughter and joy, but if he or she does not consider the feelings of others, his presence can spoil the atmosphere. As making careful combinations of spices, herbs, and base foods, makes a delicious meal, the gentle nature of a flavorman takes a group of individuals and makes a family.

Thank G-d, I have had extraordinary teachers. May such fortune continue.

Monday Teaching: Sakonyama

2009-02-25T20:21:00.000-08:00

Here is the first of what I hope to be a complete set of writings on the Japanese English teaching experience.

On Mondays, I take the tole road north to Sakonyama, a relatively rural Yokohama suburb. Driving at high speeds, without the continuous stop-start-stop driving of the normal trafficked commute, is liberating and a very enjoyable experience in itself.

The Sakonyama Class is at Ueno Kindergarten. The building neighbors a large vegetable farm and the sweet scent of burning cedar or other vegetation is often in the air as I exit the car. I usually arrive as the students are getting let out, and am engulfed in a sea of loud giggles and bubbly smiles. I pass through, recite the afternoon prayers, quickly set up the classroom and begin.

The first class has four girls. They arrive early in their Ueno Kindergarten uniforms and wait for me to set up, laughing loudly at everything I say or do. This light mood, along with their short attention span, makes them very difficult to teach and their lessons are often exhausting. To keep them interested, I have to be constantly on the move; singing, playing games and aimlessly running around. If I am not creative enough and my acts go stale, I will lose their focus and the lesson will be in vain. Exerting effort to keep their attention and to inspire them to participate and understand has taught me a lot about the nature of children.

The class’ smallest student is a little doll named Reika. She wears a red hair band and bangs and purposefully makes her voice high and squeaky. Sometimes before class we play voice games together. I squeak three times, and she makes three squeaks. I make three higher and faster squeaks and she imitates, and so on.

After they leave, I have a five minute break. Then the third class’ three students enter. I greet them with “Hello, How are you?” and they respond, “I’m fine thank you and you.” When I first started two of them were quite mischievous, making witty comments and hiding in the cubby holes. To counter this and redirect their talents, I created a behavior modification system (adapted from that which I used at Windsor Academy). If they do good, they get a stamp, if they misbehave, a stamp gets X-ed out. At the end of the semester the winner gets a “big candy.” This has created a healthy competition and a lively atmosphere.

The third class has four well-motivated and intelligent students. The crown is a young boy named Ho-ota. Ho-ota is super interested and excited about learning English. He runs into the classroom, greets me with a loud “Hello” and often leaves with a jumping high five and loud laughter. He wears an array of interesting and character portraying t-shirts. One says, “Perfection: kid running at full speed” and another says “Beetle (collecting) Champion.” He is a pleasure to have in the classroom and I greatly admire his spirit.

The fourth class is the most precocious of the week. It consists of two best friends that understand what I teach so fast that sometimes it’s difficult to fill the 40 minutes of class time. They are so high, that it is difficult to see where to push them upward to. Such is a puzzle that I have yet to complete, but I will continue to put in effort and hope a creative solution will arise.

After they leave, I clean up and head to the car. This moment brings one of two distinct feelings: exhaustion or glory.

Exhaustion has come when I was not fully prepared, had too little sleep and/or did not teach to my full ability.

Glory comes with a soothing internal fire. This feeling means that I fought with all my heart and that everyone involved learned and grew.

Thank G-d, there has been much glory.

Sankeien Park with Sekino Family

2009-02-18T05:02:00.000-08:00

There is a well known Japanese proverb that states "ichi-go ichi-eh" or "One meeting, One face-to-face." It teaches that each encounter, whether it be a breakfast with one’s father or a one-time conversation with a stranger, carries great significance. Out of the entire expanse of history and the vast lands of the earth, each moment of meeting has been orchestrated for a purpose. It is unprecedented and unrepeatable. Because of this, the proverb teaches that one should face their conversant with full attention of mind and heart and make the most out of the encounter.

With this in mind, I spent a wondrous day with Sekino-san and Yumiko-san: two immensely loving and caring people who have treated me as their own son.

It started at Oppama station, where they picked me up and drove north to Yokohama. I sat in the backseat and we quickly got into our old conversation groove. We spoke of Japanese thinking, trees, birds and much more, learning and laughing all the way.

We arrived at Sankeien Park under cloudy skies. Such was opportune, for when the heavens are gray, the earth’s colors are more vibrant.

Sankeien Park is a large piece of property, donated by a wealthy silk merchant family in the 20th century. It has many ponds, old houses from around Japan, a bonsai exhibit and about 100 ume, or plum blossom trees.

Soon after passing the gate, we headed to a large pond and watched visitors feed its coi, or carp, and water fowl. A large pack of tufted ducks, with their yellow eyes, bluish beaks and thin black ponytails, would all swim together in the same direction. During feeding, they would paddle to the food, grab it and dive under to enjoy a private snack somewhere unbeknown to me.

After, we strolled to a bonsai tree exhibit. There were trees of various breeds, ages and sizes. Sekino-san said that some were 200-300 years old. I heard that molding and taking care of a bonsai requires a lot of work, and I hope to learn and write more of the process in the future.

Then we headed around the large pond, alongside the multitudes of blooming ume. We stopped in a small hut, where they were serving scorching hot tea next to a warming fire. Over the fire, in the center of the hut, hung a large boiling pot. The volunteers would add and take from the pot to make the tea. Such was a very nice courtesy and window into the past.

Soon after we arrived at a small museum. Inside were dozens of seasonal scroll paintings. Most portrayed the ume, next to a poem or other writing or alongside a bird. Many Japanese have the custom of making a special space in their house for the scroll painting, changing the design with the turning of the month or season. They are very fond of the seasons of nature, and changing the scroll painting is a way of bringing this feeling inside the home.

After, Sekino-san took me out to eat in Yokohama Chinatown for lunch. He bought me roasted chestnuts to give to the Matsusaki family and dropped me off at the train station on the way home.

A meeting and relationship of very high quality. Thanks to the Great Orchestrator.

Of Winter

2009-02-09T20:38:00.000-08:00

The cold of winter in the Miura Peninsula comes in waves：three cool days, four cold days and then two mild days. Although the temperature barely dips below freezing, bitter cold comes occasionally. This is because the houses and office buildings do not have central heating and are not insulated as in America. The Japanese have small gas or oil heaters, used only at certain times and in certain rooms. Thankfully it has not broken my spirit, but getting out of the shower, or out of bed in the middle of the night can chill down to the bone.

This said, there are many inspiring points of winter time on the Miura Peninsula.

The season started with the New Year’s celebration. In Japan, such is a 4-10 day event, where families get together from all over the country to enjoy traditional activities and seasonal foods.

New Year ’s Day at the Matsusaki house began with the annual hike to Hiro-o Mountain to see the sun rise on the new year. The house was decorated with New Years’ colors (red and white) and crafts (bamboo, pine and berry creations) and special New Years’ foods (soba noodles, sweet black beans, rice cakes and much much more) were served. Family came from out-of-town and played with tops, flew kites and drew shodo characters (Each individual chose a character that represented their resolution for the coming year. For example, Oka-asan wrote “continue” and I wrote “return”).

Winter is the local area's driest season. This brings many fair and deep blue skies, which unveil views of Fujisan, the sunset and the stars.

The cold and snow of the mountains brings many birds down to the coast. Many new breeds, colors and sounds have graced the skies and trees.
Also, the air is often crisp. I have greatly enjoyed the feeling of walking home from the car at the end of a well fought day; bundled up, with the scent of winter in my nose, its fresh air in my lungs and its slight breeze on my face.

As with the other seasons, winter has its special flowers. The most prized blooming is the ume, or plum blossom, but the Japanese always like to fill their street sides and personal gardens with flowers. A popular seasonal potted plant is an import from the Mediterranean known as shikuramen. It is a strong flower that comes in many different colors and blooms vertical petals that appear as flames.

Thank G-d, winter has brought much blessing and joy. May safe, healthy and fruitful days continue in the coming spring.

Zushi

2009-02-02T20:26:00.000-08:00

I moved into Zushi town in mid-December and it has quickly become one of the most fascinating places that I have ever lived.

Before painting its picture, it is important to note that Zushi has a “town feel.” Compared to the streets of Tokyo and Yokohama and Yokosuka suburbs, the people are friendly. Many shops are local and each house and garden has a distinct character. There are few street lamps outside the town center and the nights are dark and quiet. I live near a set of school grounds, and I often see children walking and families supporting their children’s sporting events on the weekends.

Zushi town’s main draw is its beach. Within an hour southwest of Tokyo, scores of youths travel down on hot summer days. The waves are small, but the waters glow sky blue just after sunset. The sand is brown and the waves wash up many colors of shells, stones and seaweeds onto the shore. Windy days attract windsurfers and surfers, even in the winter. The beach itself faces west and offers brilliant views of the setting sun and Fujisan. In fact, this past Sunday about 100 people watched it set with red radiant clouds and a full seven color rainbow.

Just a short climb from the beach is Hiro-o Yama Park. Sitting atop a tall coastal hill, the park has postcard views of Fujisan behind the green cliffs and blue crashing waters of Sagami bay. It has a small animal park with birds, turtles and Japanese macaque monkeys (of which I will write more of in the future).

The bustling town area is centered around two train lines. Surrounding are small surf shops, groceries, flower shops, antique shops and a large variety of small businesses. Also, there are noodle and sushi shops as well as Italian, Thai and French restaurants and bakeries. Nearby is Zushi Plaza, which houses a library, town meeting center for government, recreation and hobby groups and an indoor swimming pool.

I live a mile inland from the beach, amidst thickly forested hillsides. I have traveled a few times to a forested area named Nagoye. This past week I went up into its bamboo forest. I climbed a steep hillside, using bamboo stumps and shoots as my ladder, and sat for some time amidst the wondrous vegetation. The wind would blow strong, loudly rustling its leaves and bending the tall, skinny and hallow poles back and forth. It felt like the massive steel-hard trunks could snap and fall at any moment, but its roots held strong and I was safe.

Above the bamboo forest, is a set of tiered rice and vegetable fields. An old man and woman farm the property with a group of young field hands. The old man is skinny and wears a big green brimmed cap that could have been taken from a farmer in the cornhusks of Nebraska. The woman is bent and wears a head rag. She has yelled at me to leave the property a couple of times, but her husband cools her down and smiles.

The big attraction of the area is its old white ume, or plum blossoms. I have become close to the ume: watching its white flowers against the deep blue sky, its petals glow translucent against the sun or mejiro hop from branch to branch.
Thus is the extent of my knowledge of Zushi town. I hope to stay for the Spring and write of the changes.

Afternoon with Oto-osan

2009-01-27T16:58:00.000-08:00

1/25/09

On a sunny afternoon, Oto-osan and I set out on a bicycle trip around Zushi town.

First we headed for lunch at a small ramen shop. The shop was housed in a thin yellow duplex, with floors as large as 2-3 bedrooms back-to-back. The ramen shop area was just large enough to fit a stove, room to stand and cook, a table and four chairs, tightly. Japanese style: no space wasted.

Oto-osan and I waited outside for 40 minutes, before entering. (Later, Oka-asan laughed loud and said that he was crazy for waiting so long for a simple ramen shop, but I didn’t mind. I was with Oto-osan and there was peace.)

As we entered, we were greeted by an old thin man with glasses, a small white cap and a wide smile and his daughter: a roundish woman with glasses, long tied-back hair and an expressionless face. Oto-osan told me that they slept (with possibly other members of the family) on the second floor and used the ramen kitchen to cook their own food. They cooked up some tasty ramen and we ate.

Next we rode onto Nagoye bamboo forest. Such is the place where Oto-osan volunteers once or twice a week.
He told me that the entire forest (about the size of two Olympic sized swimming pools) was in fact one tree, with all roots connected underground. One shoot takes only three months to grow to a full size of almost 50 feet. Preservation work (cutting down old shoots to give room and nutrition for new shoots to grow) greatly extends the life of a forest. For example, there is a forest in Kamakura that has been preserved for over 500 years.

Oto-osan showed me the bamboo club’s workshop, where they take cut-down shoots to make fences and various crafts. He gave me a bamboo cup and we headed out of the forest and up a hill to a sunlit tiered garden.

Once inside the garden, we saw an old blooming plum blossom, or ume, aglow in distant sunlight.
Ume blooms small white, yellow or pink flowers in the winter. As where cherry blossoms, or sakura, are in bloom for one week, ume flowers for one month. Its sweet-smelling flowers attract many kinds of birds and insects.

We asked a gardener for permission and headed over to the relatively large and sprawling ume. We stood in admiration for sometime, when mejiro (a small, roundish and light green jacketed bird with white circles around its eyes and a grey breast) flew to the other side of the tree.

Oto-osan told me that when he was in 4th grade, he caught mejiro with a net and kept it in a bamboo basket for one year. He fed it rice and flowers and let it go with its health.

We sat and watched the green and white contrast glow in the sun, as mejiro jumped from branch to branch, flower to flower, coming closer and closer to Oto-osan and me. It came as close as seven feet, feeding for some time, and then we decided to walk off. When we had walked 20 feet from the tree, mejiro, flew away.

We got back on the bikes and rode into town. First, we stopped at Zushi Plaza, where there was a shodo exhibit. Local calligraphers were displaying there work to the public and congregating.　　
Oto-osan showed two of my recent works to the group. They were surprised that a gaijin, or foreigner, could write with balance. A calligraphy teacher with radiant brownish eyes and some English conversation ability asked for the work. He said he wanted to inspire his students, displaying how one can rise many levels in six months. By the grace of G-d. May it continue.

We stayed for some time until I realized that it was getting late. The sun was just about to set at Zushi beach!

Oto-osan lead us there. He rode at a frantic pace. I could hardly keep up. We went down a main street, along a river and through some thin side streets and arrived at the beach. I was anxious, but we arrived just in time. The sky was clear and the sun set lined an orange glow just above the horizon.

After, we headed home. Oka-asan, Kaori-san and Asahi were waiting for dinner.

Adventure 14: Takayama

2009-01-20T21:15:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-15T04:28:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-07T04:57:00.001-08:00

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

2008-12-03T04:27:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-26T05:18:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-13T07:21:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

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.

Sekino Family

2008-10-09T02:12:00.000-07:00

9/7/08-10/8/08

It has now been a full month since I moved in with a Japanese family. Here I would like to speak about the family, the house and the lifestyle.

I live with a semi-retired couple. Sekino-san, the father, is an electrical engineer and a strong golfer. He was born in a rural town of northern Japan in a family of 10 brothers and sisters. He spent five years away from the family, working in Abu Dabai. While he was away, his parents-in-law moved into the house and helped raise the children. Yumiko-san, the mother, was a domestic science teacher and is a great cook. Today she spends a lot of time helping out at her mother’s nursing home and supporting other charitable works.

Sekino-san and Yumiko-san have three children and two grandchildren. Their eldest daughter is married and has two children. She lives close and visits from time to time. Their eldest son lives far north, and comes home for New Years. Their youngest daughter lives in Yokohama and works at a bank. She visited the house three times in September.

The house itself is neat and well decorated. It has an orange tiled roof and well maintained Japanese style garden. The garden has stepping stones, trees, flowers and sculptures. In September a very special white flower bloomed. This flower, gekka bijin (which means beautiful lady below the moon), blooms only once a year; on the night of (or night before or after) a full moon. Inside, the house is filled with small origami crafts. The foldings are very intricate, and it is mind-boggling how it is possible for a human being to make such a work. Also, there are flowers in nearly every room and many small sculptures.

We spend most of our time together at meals. Each of which contains many different kinds of foods (often new or unknown to me), served on multiple plates and bowls. Yumiko-san handcrafts the placement of each food, creating a meal that is as pleasing to look at as it is to eat. During the meal we talk about differences in language and culture and learn a lot about each other. Sekino-san orders a daily English newspaper, and at meals he often reads the text and I help him understand the words and concepts that are new to him.

Since my arrival, Sekino-san and Yumiko-san have been very kind to me and have made me feel like a member of the family. They have taught me how the Japanese think, and have greatly enhanced the quality of my home life. I hope and plan to stay with them for at least two more months.

Assembly Class

2008-09-25T22:14:00.000-07:00

Sobu Kindergarten: 9/25/08

This Thursday I taught a set of assembly classes at Sobu Kindergarten. An assembly class is a 20 minute English lesson in front of 30-90 Japanese children. Although it is teaching, the classes must be entertaining. This means that, in order to capture the students’ attention and involve them in the lesson, the teacher uses songs and much jumping, moving and shaking.

This Thursday I drove south on the toll road to reach the lesson. The toll road was paved through the central highlands of the Miura Peninsula and offers great views of the sharp green hillsides and rural villages. This particular day was clear and the sun illuminated the multiple shades of greens of the grasses, ivies and trees.

At about 10:00am I arrived at Sobu Kindergarten. The structure and decoration of the Kindergarten is closer to a theme park than an American school. The buildings are painted pastel yellow, lime green, pink, orange and bright red and sit at the foot of a hill in a rural setting. There is an entire building near the playground built like Thomas the Tank Engine (pictured below). The hallways are also painted with pastel colors and there are cute pictures and paintings posted everywhere. When I arrived, I heard the sounds of “Supercalifradulous” booming from the stereos and loud laughter of scores of children.

Most children of the kindergarten wear matching yellow, green and red shirts, green shorts, long black socks, white shoes and small caps that designate their age or class. Whenever I walk through the halls at a Japanese Kindergarten, I am often greeted by the children. They run to me from all directions and shout “Hello” and then give out a loud belly laugh. Often I put my hand about a foot over their head and offer a jumping high five. They proceed to crouch low and jump as high as they can (as many times as it takes) to slap my hand. Upon a successful high five, the children celebrate and laugh in a state of bliss. (Imagine a college basketball team winning a National Championship and celebrating. Picture the jumping and cries of joy of the winning young men. Such is a comparable level of delight to what is experienced by these children after a successful high five.)

Soon I arrived in a pink classroom and began preparing for five lessons. I taped a calendar and pictures of the months to a white board and took out the rest of the props: pictures of the sun, clouds, rain and snow, the alphabet, Q, R, S, T, U and V posters and their subsequent props (a picture of a turtle and a tiger for the T lesson).

Each class entered with 30-60 students and 1-2 teachers. The teachers had seemingly full control of the students. They had them stretch out their hands (pictured below) and sat them in well-spaced rows.
The lessons began with repeating phrases and singing songs about greeting, the date, months and the alphabet. After, as they began to lose their concentration, I had them repeat and physically perform, “up,” “down,” “shake,” and “turn around.” Then we sang and performed Hoki Poki. This brought loud laughter and concentration and I followed with teaching the letters and their words (U: umbrella and unicorn). After this, I ended with a “Goodbye song.” Upon the conclusion of the lessons, I was immediately hugged by huge swarms of students. I reached my hand out and gave as many ecstatic high fives as possible and pointed them in the direction of their teachers.
Here it is important to repeat that the classes are more about entertainment than lecturing. There is an art to keeping the children focused and interested. The teacher has to be quick and always have the edge. When the students start to get bored, one must quickly change to a fun song or motion exercise. If they get too excited and lose focus, the teacher must calm them. Also, there is also an art to having them repeat a letter or phrase ten times. One must change speeds, pitch and volume of his or her voice and constantly be creative. Such has been a challenging learning process for me and will probably continue to be so for the rest of my stay in Japan.

After finishing the lesson, I packed up the props, said the final “goodbyes” and took the toll road home.

Around Shonan Takatori

2008-09-20T21:55:00.000-07:00

The Matty’s office and dorm (whose structure is the same as the adjacent houses) lie in a quiet neighborhood named Shonan Takatori. The neighborhood stands at the waste of Mt. Takatori (This means “grabbing hawk,” which refers to a species of brown, wide-winged hawks that stalk and swoop throughout the area. They have been known to talon food out of a human’s hand, and I believe this is the source of the name.), about 1.5 miles inland from Tokyo Bay.

The houses around the area are small and tightly pressed together. Each has distinct architecture and intricately planted, shaped and cut gardens. Most are built compactly on 2-8 foot high stone foundations to protect from earthquakes and typhoons. Many people have small box-shaped cars and dogs and/or cats as pets.

The local earth is filled with a wide variety of life. The diversity of vegetation is far superior to that of America. The mountain landscapes are filled with various species of maple, pine, bamboo and many others unknown to me. They cover the forests in small connected patches, appearing as a quilt. Also, throughout the spring and summer, many different colors and sizes of flowers sprout along the roads and within personal gardens. The Japanese have quite an affinity for them and make an extra effort to plant flowers in every free corner. Along with vegetation, there are many species of insects. The most interesting are the green beetles, praying mantises and the various species and colors of butterfly. This said, the area’s birds are much less widespread than in America. I have sporadically seen sparrows, chickadees, swallows, ravens, hawks, and tiny green birds named mejiro. Also, land animals are rarely seen. They are limited to small forest squirrels, snakes and raccoons.

Just outside Matty's office, there is a trail that ascends Mt. Takatori. It passes trees, flowers and a set of house-sized brown boulders and leads to a tower that holds open and expansive 360 degree views. On a clear day, one can see Chiba Prefecture (on the other side of Tokyo Bay) to the east. To the north, one can see the towers of Yokohama and Tokyo and the green inland hills, the southeastern most edge of the Miura Peninsula and Yokosuka city to the south. To the west, one can see Sagami Bay, more hills and Fujisan (it has not been clear enough for me to see yet).

Many times, I hiked to this tower, sat in meditation and then opened my eyes to clear vision of these vast views.
As one descends from Shonan Takatori towards Tokyo Bay, one passes a variety of places to shop, eat and drink. Within 50 feet one can find a new and well-kept bank or corporate convenient store and small wooden shacks that house the businesses of small “mom and pop” food, flower, clothing or car maintenance shops. Also, there are tiny noodle shops, housed in buildings that are five feet wide and fifteen feet long (just enough room for a cook, his or her equipment and seating for 2-4 people).

Continuing towards the bay, one walks along a river, where many fish from land or clam in the water, and arrives at a large park. In the park, there is a baseball field, an area for barbecuing alongside the river and a tall hill that houses a tower. From there one can see the vast inland villages, the mountain range at the center of the peninsula, Tokyo Bay and a few miles of its coastline.

I still live in Shonan Takatori, and plan to continue to explore and write more details in the future.

Dorm Living

2008-09-17T05:07:00.000-07:00

6/08-8/08

Recently, I moved out of the Matty’s Dorm and into a homestay with a Japanese family. Here I would like to recount the most pleasant characteristic of dorm living: the bedroom.
The day I moved in, Mrs. Kyokuta showed me my room. It had tatami floors, paper windows, a bed and a large metal desk. From the outset, I desired to live and sleep in the Japanese style. I moved out the bed and the desk, and brought in a futon. Every morning I folded up the futon and stored it in the closet and every night I took it out and prepared it for sleeping. During the day, my room consisted of two walls of paper windows, two walls of closed closets and a bare tatami floor.

Such an arrangement brought many moments of peace. Its emptiness was a good environment for prayer, study and meditation. I kept the tatami floors clean and soft and the morning and late afternoon sun illuminated the paper windows with great beauty.

On the south wall, behind the paper windows, there were two sliding panes of glass that opened to a small wooden patio. The patio faced the dorm’s garden: a well-planned set of seasonally flowering bushes and trees, boulders, wild bamboo shoots and a traditional rock lantern. I would often eat breakfast on this patio, looking upon the vegetation and the surrounding hillsides blowing in the wind. At night, the patio often had open views of the rising moon. I would sit and watch it glow through the clouds. On such nights, I would open the window panes, lay the futon next to the screen, and fall asleep with my eyes watching the moon.

Such experiences will be missed, but I have been very happy in my current living environment. I plan to write about the family, the house and the way of life in future.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 3 & 4)

2008-09-10T06:16:00.000-07:00

8/14/08-8/15/08

After a windy night in the high mountains, I awoke to clear skies and a view of Fujisan. My initial plan was to head south and hike two more peaks in the morning and then loop back over Kita Dake and Aino Dake in the afternoon. This changed when a weathered and old mountain man told me that thunder and rain were possible in the high mountains in the afternoon. With this knowledge, I decided to continue south over the peaks and take the quickest route down the mountain. As I left, the man said, "be careful" and "good luck."

As I started to climb Notori Dake (3052m), a dark thick cloud and powerful wind covered the mountain. The green mountain scenery from the day before was hidden and I could only see 20 feet in front of me. As I approached the second peak, the sky cleared over the eastern valley and vision returned. I took a short break and headed down a rocky hill with wild flowers and tall grasses.

The time came to leave the high mountains and I began a steep and seemingly endless descent through a thickly forested mountainside. The hike was taxing on my knees, feet and eyes, but clear views of Fujisan and the surrounding forests eased the pain. Finally, I arrived at the campsite and put up the tent with my tired bones. After, I walked over to a near river and built a rock tower. At the campsite, I met a French Canadian named Phillip and his wife, Yoko. We spoke about living in Japan, talked, laughed loudly and raised spirits.

Before heading to sleep, I sat for a long time and watched the clouds float around Fujisan, taking in the atmosphere of the mountains.

I awoke the next morning at sunrise. There was a clear view of Fujisan under clouds of yellow, blue and orange. I quickly packed up and got my sore legs marching down the trail by 6:15am. The first leg was along and over the river and the second was through a mossy forest. The sun was out and illuminating the leaves and the views of the surrounding mountain slopes.

At one point, I took a break and sat facing the river. I gazed at the ripples and the reflecting light. I thought about how fortunate I was to be in the Japanese Alps at that moment and to have made it over the mountains with my health and possessions intact.

Soon after, I finished the last leg, a paved road under clear skies and open views of the high mountains, and arrived in Narada. Narada was a small town at the end of the trail with houses with multi-colored roofs and a famous onsen, or hot spring. With the help of a kind Japanese couple, I found the onsen. I quickly paid, took off my dirty clothes, showered and submerged in the warm waters. The facility that housed the onsen facilitated the cleaning experience of the bath. It had tatami-floored tea rooms, stone floors and ajisai flowers just outside the bath. Afterwards, I headed down to the bus stop and found the fastest route back to Tokyo (with the proactive benevolence of the kind Japanese couple).

A few hours later, I arrived in Tokyo, called Rabbi Binyamin and was graciously accepted to stay with his family for Shabbat. At his house, I prayed with renewed fervor, nourished my body and got a full night of sleep.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 1 & 2)

2008-09-06T07:46:00.000-07:00

8/12/08-8/13/08

The trip began on a Monday evening, when I took a train to Tokyo and stayed at Rabbi Binyamin's house. The next morning, I prayed, ate and took a set of trains west to Kofu. At 2:00pm, I took a bus along with 20 other backpackers to a trail head in Hirokawara. The road was thin and winded around mountain edges and alongside waterfalls. Upon arriving in Hirokawara, I made best use of my maps and the Japanese signs and took a steep path up the spine of the mountain. I arrived at the campsite with just enough time to set up the tent before dark. With the darkness came the pouring rain, which continued for the majority of the night. My tent was soaked and leaking, but dry enough on the inside to allow a full night of sleep.

When the sun arose, the rains stopped. I took down the tent and let it dry with my sleeping bag in the sun for about an hour and a half. At 9:30, I began to hike a steep path up a grassy mountain. As I ascended, the weather changed very quickly and often: from cloudy skies to sunny skies or to a thick and engulfing mist that obscured vision.

Eventually, I reached a clearing and saw the surrounding ranges under blue skies. As I ascended, I met many Japanese and they all greeted me with a cheerful countenance and "conichiwa." I continued up and made it to Kita Dake (3193m), the second highest peak in Japan. There I prayed with tefillin and ate.

As I gazed upon the valley, I saw a bird still in the air. It wasn’t flapping its wings, just balancing stationary in the wind.

I headed down and arrived at a mountain hut station by 2:30pm. There I rested and pondered whether to set up camp or continue to the next hut (which was three hours away). There were dark clouds over the valley and hovering over the peaks and I considered staying. I looked into the distance, saw that there was no precipitation coming out of any of the clouds and judged that it would be safe to move on.

As I went, the trail became steep, misty and lonesome. I went fast, but with great caution, always leaning and stepping uphill. The atmosphere was heavenly and I often gazed into the clouds. I reached the second peak, Aino Dake (3189m), dry and safe. As I descended, the sun peered through the clouds with Grace. Soon, I made it up to the next mountain hut, set up the tent and headed to the western edge of the campsite. The Beauty of the view and Glory of the day brought me to sing verses of praise into the valley. As I sung, the sun peaked through the clouds again and shined rays of yellow into the valley mist. After, with a cold and tired body, I returned to the tent for sleep.

Adventure 7: Shikine Shima

2008-08-30T07:25:00.000-07:00

8/8/08-8/10/08

The group left the port and I was left alone on Shikine Shima. I had no hotel reservations and about four hours to find a place to stay (before Shabbat). The island had a small village in the center with small guest houses and convenient stores. I walked inland, carrying a map, compass, sleeping bag, change of clothes, and some wine and bread. I asked a clerk at a convenient store and several people on the street where I could find a hotel. They pointed in several directions, but I could not read the signs on the buildings nor find a room to stay. After circumventing for two hours under the hot afternoon sun, I consulted the map and headed north to a campsite.

The campsite was just above a cove with a white sandy beach, steep rock cliffs covered with greenery, turquoise waters and a large tree-covered stone arch. It had a barbecue area, bathrooms and an unobstructed sunset view. I quickly checked in, hid my bags up the hill and ran to a convenient store to get supplies. The day after Shabbat was Tishba B'av, a fast day, so I bought plenty of food. I returned, took a nice swim, a shower and lit the candles for Shabbat. The wind was strong, so I built a fortress around the candles with the bags and kept close until the wax expired. I watched them flicker and glow and covered the top with my hands when strong winds came.

When the lights went out, a new trial emerged. I had no tent or insect repellent and clouds were hovering above. I covered my entire body (except me face) in the sleeping bag, prayed that no rain would come and closed my eyes. Throughout the night, the mosquitoes continuously harassed me, but no rain came. I was able to get a few hours of restless sleep.

The next morning I prayed, ate a big breakfast of cold noodles and jam, bread and salt and biscuits and nuts, hid my bags and took a morning hike along the eastern and southern edges of the island. I explored secluded coves, walking over big white rocks and gazing upon the turquoise water. I made it to a set of natural hot springs, that were right on the water’s edge. I read a sign that said the spring had healing powers and was discovered when someone came upon an injured sea lion bathing in its pools. I put my hands in, and the hot salt water burned in the cuts on my fingers. I headed back to the campsite for lunch and prayer, hid my bags and headed out to the western edge for the afternoon. I traversed through a trail along thick green vegetation and up a hill to the highest points on the island. There were great views of the tall and steep mountain cliffs that met the turquoise waters and the green trees that covered the island. That night I tried to sleep in an unused shower room, but the mosquitoes found me there. I got out, set up my sleeping bag on a plot of sand near the water’s edge and covered my face with a pair of sweatpants. Thankfully, there was no rain again and I got a few hours of good sleep.

The next morning I awoke, took a boat back to the mainland and spent the afternoon fasting at the Tokyo Chabad House. That night I ate a big dinner and returned home. I spent the next day resting and preparing for a four day camping trip in the Southern Japanese Alps.

Adventure 6: Sailing to Shikine Shima

2008-08-27T17:39:00.000-07:00

8/5/08 - 8/8/08

The trip began on a Tuesday, when I rested from the Fujisan climb and made the preparations for the long distance sailing trip. Along with my clothes and sleeping bag, I brought wine, bread and candles for Shabbat. In the afternoon, I met Takesan and his girlfriend, Nanamisan, at the dock and emptied the water out of the small entry boat. That night we slept on the boat together and prepared for an early take off.

We woke to a sunrise that illuminated the sky with gold and dark blue. Mrs. Kyokuta met us at the dock, wished us a good trip, pointed at the sunrise, and remarked that it was a good omen. We motored out of the port and into Tokyo Bay at about 5:00am, as the sun brightened the sky and the water. As is common over the summer, there was no wind, so we relied on the motor for the majority of the day. As we headed south, I took my prayer book and tefillin out and did my best to pray on the deck. I hugged the sail’s support beam and gazed upon the colors and motion of the water, as the ship bumped me in all directions. The skies were clear overhead and graced with white cloud puffs in the distance and the waters were sparkling in the sun. We all took time to take in the beauty.

As we moved out of Tokyo bay the waters changed from sea blue to a deep turquoise. Mr. Kyokuta told me it was called “black current” and flowed throughout the area. The “black current” was stunningly beautiful under the clear sky and housed flying fish that jumped out of the sea and flapped their wings in the air for a distance.　At one point, the fishing line tightened and Nanamisan reeled in a huge golden scaled fish named ｓhira, or mahi mahi by the Hawaiians. As it took its last breaths, the fish’s scales turned silver. Quickly, Takesan cut off the meat on the deck and stored it in the icebox.

In the afternoon, we slowly approached O Shima, a large green volcanic island. After some uncertainty with parking, a kind 82 year-old man in a white bucket hat waved us into a docking slot. Soon after, we were driven to an Onsen, or public bath. When we arrived, we removed our sweaty clothes, squatted down under a low showerhead, cleaned our bodies and descended into the warm waters. As we sat, Mr. Kyokuta recounted that traditionally Japanese men and women would share the same public bath and that such was the practice in his youth. We left the bath rejuvenated, bought some ice cream and hiked back to the boat. That night we ate the shira and slept well.

The next morning we awoke and tarried for some time in the port in search of fuel and water. As we motored out to sea, Nanamisan set the breakfast table and we ate under clear skies. Mid-morning we passed To Shima, an uninhabited volcanic island. I was praying at the time and as I looked up, I was overcome with awe. The island’ｓ steep slopes were smoking and its greenery was glowing in the sun. Glorious Speech!

After lunch we put up the jib sail, turned off the motor and moved with the sounds of the waves in our ears. We caught several fish and stored them in ice. In the late afternoon we arrived at Shikine Shima and set anchor in a cove with light turquoise waters. As fast as I could, I jumped into the cool refreshing waters and explored the area. There were caves, beaches and rock islands covered in coral. The water was so clear that I could see the fish and coral without goggles. I found a secluded spot, with an open view over the western waters and sky, and sat for sunset. It was wondrous, complete with multiple colors in the sky, glowing clouds and a view of Fujisan to the north. That night Takesan took out fish, sliced off the meat and put them on the table raw, as sashimi. They were soft in texture and delicious.

The next morning we awoke, cleared the barnacles off the bottom of the boat and went snorkeling. I saw many species of multicolored tropical fish, an eel, octopus and much coral. After, I sat on the deck, gazing upon the sun-illuminated turquoise waters, grey rocks, blue skies and green trees. It was all very pretty and brought serenity. As the moment passed, I let go of the intensity of the past months of adjusting to Japanese life, and reset my heart for the coming Fall. Soon after, Mr Kyokuta motored us back to the port. I took out my bags and said goodbye to the others. I was to spend Shabbat on the island and the group was to sail back to Tokyo Bay.

Adventure 5: Mt. Fuji Climb

2008-08-18T06:22:00.000-07:00

Fujisan 8/3 & 4/08

The climb to Mt. Fuji (respectfully referred to as Fujisan by the Japanese) began on a Saturday night, as I checked the tent and packed. I awoke late Sunday morning, ate a huge breakfast of all the leftover food in the house, prayed, picked up some food and a poncho and headed to Oppama Station. I proceeded to take five trains and arrived in Gotemba around 3:00pm.

Without a concrete plan or knowledge of how to get to the mountain, I walked toward the bus station. There I saw a group of young Americans get on a bus. They said they were going to the Gotemba 5th Station of Fujisan’s western slope and climbing the mountain overnight. I was not planning on climbing from that station or on the first night, but after a moment of fast thinking, I jumped on the bus.

We arrived at the 5th Station at 4:30pm, and I began to ascend alone. As I climbed, the colors of the grey rocks, green plants, and blue sky glowed clear through the thin mountain air. There were yellow sunrays breaking through the clouds above me and a lake of thick white clouds covering the valley below me. At one point the valley clouds ascended the mountain and blew a fresh breath of mist onto my skin. It was the first time I felt the consistency of a cloud.

As the sun was setting, I met a nice lone hiker from Kyoto and proceeded to climb most of the night with him. We did not speak much of each other’s language, but we communicated the emotions of climbing well and understood each other.

After the sunset the overhead clouds thinned and the stars came out. They shined clear, filled the sky with great beauty and served as inspiration when I took breaks from climbing.

Such was needed, for the ten hours of climbing pained my body and challenged my will. Along with being steep and completely uphill, the trail was made of small rocks and sunk my feet 2-5 inches on every step. Also, because I was not planning on climbing the first day, I had a large external-frame army pack filled with a tent, sleeping bag, food, clothes and water on my back and a backpack filled with books over my stomach.

At times I struggled and considered going to sleep. On breaks, I saw 5-10 shooting stars and each time I asked for the strength to go on and for protection from a bad fall. From midnight to 3:00am I became progressively slower and took more breaks, but I finished with a charge to the summit and arrived on the eastern edge just as light began to show on the horizon.

Soon after, I watched the sun slowly rise. The show started with a rainbow in the sky, then golden clouds were added to the horizon and climaxed as the sun rose a perfect yellow sphere, unmarred by the clouds. (Note: I have watched four suns rise in Japan. Twice it rose red and twice yellow. I think the presentation depends on the location of the watcher and thickness of the eastern clouds. If I find more information about this, I will write of it.) There were white clouds in the valleys, covering everything but the black mountain peaks. Glorious Speech!

After the rise, I hiked around the crater of Fujisan’s crown, gazing upon the adjacent valleys in the morning sun and mist. My mind was tired and my body exhausted, and after some confusion I chose the path down the northern slope and headed down. It was wide, steep and slippery and I fell backward many times. Along the way I stopped to pray, strength was returned and I began to march down. The last legs were highlighted by more climbing clouds and views of the bright green forests of Fujisan’s ankle.

Although I planned to spend two nights in the Fuji area, I decided to head home that day. I had ten days of physically taxing ventures ahead of me and took the following day for rest.

Festival 3

2008-07-28T05:05:00.000-07:00

Odawara 7/27/08

The day began with prayer, a big breakfast and a hike down to Oppama Station. From there I traveled to Kamakura, where I spent a couple of hours at its beach. Its water was clear and warm and filled with swimmers. The waves were small, but they broke far away from the shore and I could body surf short distances.

At about 1pm I headed to the train station, and traveled about 22 miles east to Odawara. When I arrived, I stepped outside to a view of the high-seated castle amidst distant cloudy and blue mountains. The castle was elevated above the city and had a moat, a cage of Japanese Macaques and gardens within its foregrounds. There were also many bizarre shaped and seemingly ancient trees within the castle park. As I approached the castle, I could hear drumming coming from the festival grounds and took flight towards the sounds. I arrived to a set of carnival booths, paper lantern decorations, a stage with medium to massive sized drums and a group of about 100 onlookers sitting on benches.

I went straight to the benches and sat down for an intense two-hour ride of radiant music. Over this time period, there were four sets of drummer teams with matching uniforms and between six to twenty members each. The first two performances included flute players and were paced by slow to moderate drumming. The music was sweet and the drummers were very serious. They were deeply focused on their timing and produced a seemingly flawless performance. The next two groups came with large drums and thunderous fast-paced drumming. They chanted and swung their wooden drumming sticks in all directions with beautiful synchronicity. The performances were well prepared and one could see the emotion and joy in the faces of the drummers as they pounded away. I nodded back and forth on the bench and took it in.

After the drumming, the mikoshi ceremony began. (Mikoshi are portable shrines, most shaped like minature shrine buildings, with pillars, a roof and a golden phoenix on top. They are believed to house local nature spirits and give good fortune to towns that carry them in festival parades. Odawara, which is a well populated city, had 25 in its festival.)
After a set of speeches, teams of 10-30 men and women started carrying the mikoshi out of the castle park, over the moat bridge and into the streets. Each team, which were dressed in matching uniforms and head towels, had a man that lead the chants and their movement and a set of flag and paper-lantern holders that marched in the front. Some ran the mikoshi at top speed for as long a fifty feet, before coming to an immediate stop, others tipped it over from side to side, but all marched it out, chanting loudly and popping it up and down on their shoulders.

After they all left the castle park, I followed them to the street. They were still popping up and down and chanting. The energy of all the motion and sound was intense and the setting sun turned the sky into a gorgeous collage of gold, grey and blue. I started pacing and jumping alongside a team that was popping up and down faster and chanting louder than the others. A man in the front waved at me to join the team and I accepted the offer.

Wow. I entered the eye of the hurricane. Sandwiched in a tight group of 30 men, I chanted and screamed “Washoi,” “Yokoi sorah,” and “Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi” and popped up and down with all my might. Exhilarating. I do not know what the others were yelling for, but I was yelling for Life, and for Youth and for The Creator who puts it all together. Exhilarating.

Eventually, we carried the mikoshi back into the castle park and joined the others. There the community leaders were singing beautiful folk melodies, to which we responded with more “Washoi,” “Yokoi Sorah,” and “Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi, Hi.” We bopped and screamed as loud as we could. When it ended, I thanked the men for letting me join and headed back to Odawara station. The next morning I awoke with a sore shoulder and a brilliant memory.

Festival 1

2008-07-20T03:28:00.001-07:00

Asakusa, Tokyo 7/10/08

The rainy season ended and the summer has arrived. In Japan this means it is a time for festivals, gatherings with various means to celebrate the season. Most are a combination of carnival booths, special food, music and dancing and are usually held at a shrine or in paper lantern decorated streets.

My first festival trip was to Asakusa Sensoji in Tokyo on a Wednesday night. It began, as I took the train from class in Nokendai, and arrived to a gathering of thousands around the Sensoji shrine. There were hundreds of booths on all sides of the shrines, selling whistles, wind chimes (These were made out of small glass bowls. I was told that their chiming sounds make Japanese feel cool in the summer heat.), plants, noodles, fish on a stick, cotton candy and kinds of strange foods. Many woman and young girls dressed in yukata (a traditional summer gown), and many made incense or money offerings at the shrines.

The atmosphere was lively, with the air of a county fair or carnival in America. Vendors were yelling, children were eating candy and all were in high spirits.

A special element of this festival was the mass selling of a plant called houzukiichi, or ground cherry. The plant’s fruit is used to make a whistle. (First one peels off the shell, and carefully pricks off the seed in the center. Then one softly pushed at the seed and softens the insides. Finally one pulls out the insides of the seed and uses its shell as a whistle. The process takes at least an hour to do correctly, and is widely enjoyed by children.) I bought a set of three for the nice lady who told me about the festival and walked on.

One moment, I stop and watched a fish booth. There one could fish for gold fish and small black fish with puffy cheeks. Using a tool that appeared as a magnifying glass with a piece of thin material instead of glass, one would scoop as many fish into a small bowl as possible (until the material broke). Then he or she would take their prizes home in a small plastic bag. It reminded me of my youth and brought nostalgia of happy times.

Another moment I watched a cook fry up a multilayered pancake meal. He slapped about twenty circles of batter onto the fryer, added some noodles, an egg, a large variety of multicolored spices, a handful of very thinly sliced meat and folded it over. Then a young woman would quickly stick it in a plastic container, add soy sauce and mayonnaise and hand it to customers with a set of chopsticks.

It eventually grew late and I headed home. I hope to go to more festivals in the future.

Gentle Misfortune

2008-07-16T06:35:00.000-07:00

7/14/08

On a Monday, near dusk, I was sitting at a traffic light, twenty feet from a major intersection. I noticed that the lights in the car had turned off, and thought the car needed to be restarted. This was a mistake, for the engine refused to start up again. (Note: If you have car trouble don’t take the key out of the ignition until you are safely home or off road.) There, I sat in a dead Matty’s mobile, a 14 year old white Suzuki Alto with Matty’s insignia and telephone number posted on the side doors and trunk. I did not have a phone or much knowledge of the Japanese language and there were cars backed far behind and zipping by on both sides.

Quickly, I moved. I put on the parking lights, got out, kindly motioned to the man behind me to pass and ran about fifty yards to a payphone. I called Mr. Kyokuta and he told me he would meet me in twenty minutes. In the mean time, I flagged down a kind Japanese gentleman and he turned the wheel, as I pushed the car to the side of the road.

Mr. Kyokuta arrived, restarted the battery and led me home. About forty feet in front of Oppama Station’s major intersection, the car died again. I got out of the car and motioned to Mr. Kyokuta. Without batting an eye, he jumped out of the car with his five foot and 77 year old body and thick white beard. He pulled out a ten foot metal chain, hooked his mini white SUV to the Matty’s mobile and began towing.

As he towed I sat in the driver’s seat with my hands on the wheel and my foot near the brake. Such was not easy because the cars needed to traverse thin roads a well trafficked highway and a 360 degree turn up the steep foot of Takatori Mountain. I needed intense concentration to keep from crashing into Mr. Kyokuta’s back or hitting something off road.

We safely arrived at the office and parked the car in the lot. I thanked Mr. Kyokuta and told him I would buy him a beer sometime. He laughed and we parted for the evening.

(The next day the newer and larger Suzuki Alto was again available for driving.)

Of Summer

2008-07-13T04:08:00.000-07:00

7/13/08

A week after my first sailing experience, I went down the hill for another day of learning. I met Mr. Kyokuta at the bay at 8:45am in the morning sun. Before setting out, he taught me how to put up and down the main sail. Understanding how to do this quickly is very important, for if the winds grow strong the main sail must be brought down. Mr. Kyokuta told me that the previous day there were quick gusts of wind that were so powerful that the men cleaning the skyscraper windows had to come down. Upon finishing his detailed lesson, he told me that sailing is simple, but each step must be done correctly, for a small mistake can lead to big trouble.

After the lesson, we headed out to the body of the bay. There was much less traffic and less wind than the previous week, so we motored our way south. Mr. Kyokuta gave me control of the rudder, as we headed down to the eastern tip of the Miura peninsula. With little wind and no need to worry about the sails, I had much more success keeping the boat straight. As we turned around, I handed back the rudder with more skill and confidence. I still do not know how to sail with the wind, but I have more knowledge on how to keep the boat steady.

After the lesson from Mr. Kyokuta had ended, I set my eyes to the beauty of the scenery. The southeastern edge of the peninsula was less populated and filled with green hills and beaches. With a clear path ahead, I turned my attention to the water. What Grace, what Speech. The colors, shapes and movement of the surface absorbed me. The head traffic of earth living left, and peace came. Time left and the dance of creation entered.

Eventually, we cruised back to the port. We left the gentle breeze behind and were hit by overpowering heat. This made the anchoring, fender tying and general clean-up duties more difficult, but we made it back to land. Mr. Kyokuta bought me a soda, and we said goodbye at 3:00pm. I am very grateful for his teaching and the opportunity to sail.

I quickly made it back up the hill, showered, prayed and then headed back down to Oppama Station. In the streets across from the station, the annual festival was taking place in the streets.

The festival was attended by a variety of people. There were Japanese, tourists from the west and a large amount of Brazilians. (Note: There are currently around 250,000 Brazilians living in Japan. I have heard that in the last 150 years, the Brazilian government gave large lots of land to the Japanese and attracted many to migrate to the country. The Brazilians who live in Japan are descendents of those immigrants and have been accepted back as full citizens. There is a large community of Brazilians in Oppama, of which appear to be more of causation or Native American descent than Japanese.) Many women and young girls dressed in yukata, a cotton summer dress with bright colors that looks very similar to the silk komono. People were happy and the festive spirit was alive.

When I arrived, a group was playing taiko, large drums, in the street. They pounded very hard, creating a powerful beat with synchronized sounds, dress and hand motions. It was very entertaining and the crowd appreciated their efforts with a lengthy applause. Later a group of about 20-30 young men and women carried an omikoshi, a shrine (the size of piano on its back) that is believed to protect the town. This was an intense ritual, filled with chanting, shouting and much motion. After, there was a dance competition between 10-15 dance troupes. Each troupe had their own costume and routine, but all danced to the same flute song at the same time. Afterward was a show from the Brazilians. The show consisted of about 20 women dressed in Carnival costumes, who danced around a sports car and six drummers. The revealing dress and dancing style seemed very out of place, but the crowds seemed to enjoy it. This ended the festival, and I headed back up the hill to rest up for the week.

Sailing

2008-07-06T02:55:00.000-07:00

Tokyo Bay 7/6/08

After prayer and breakfast, I ran about two miles down the hill to the water’s edge. There I met Mr. Kyokuta and the crewmates: Ta-ke-san, a man with glasses, beard and competitive sailing racing experience and Tak, a beginner sailor in high school, who just spent the last school year in Ohio. We sailed on Matty II, a boat of about 15 yards in length and powered by two large sails and an engine for take-off and landing. To speak of the boat’s strength and durability, Mr. Kyokuta told me that he bought it from a man who sailed it from France to Japan.

We set off in a cloudy morning with the smell of coming rain in the air. The waters were dark grey as we set up the sails and entered the torso of the bay. The offshore waters were filled with traffic: fishing, sailing and coast guard boats. Because of this I was taught that all sailors have to remain aware at all times to alert the skipper of coming traffic.

The clouds began to clear and I was given control of the rudder. I quickly learned of the complications of boat steering. The skipper must direct the boat through changes of the direction and speed of the wind, oncoming traffic and the waves that they produce. He must keep the boat going straight and go with the wind at all times. A little mistake will lose the momentum and cause the crew to rotate one of the two sails to the other side of the boat.

When I took control, I immediately pushed the rudder too far and then pulled it too far, causing the boat to make a 180 degree turn. I learned that to prevent this, a skipper must counter a strong move, and quickly push or pull the rudder half way in the opposite direction. I made it out of the traffic and past Sarushima (monkey island), an island off the coast of Yokosuka city that has no monkeys, and into the clear. I smiled in joy and handed the rudder back, having a slight understanding of how to use it, but still without much skill of using the wind. No matter how poor I did, Takesan and Mr. lifted doubt with encouraging comments.

I was then taught how to tack and jive, two methods of reversing the sails to the other side of the boat. The first 5-7 times I tacked, my performance was less than satisfactory to Mr. Kyokuta and we tacked and tacked until I got it 100% correct. This was quite tiring and nauseating. While the others ate lunch in high spirits, I sat quite uncomfortably thinking of how I would never sail again.

But the clouds had burned off and the sun had come out, and I fought the seasickness by staring at the sparkling waves. I did this for awhile and began to feel a lot better and appreciate the beauty of the bay and the green hills that cut into its waters. As we turned back to the north, the afternoon sun was making the waters glow silver. It appeared to me as Speech and am sorry to say that it could not be captured by a camera.

As we landed I felt much better about the whole experience. I patted Takesan on the back and shook his hand, making some of the first real physical human contact since I arrived in Japan. He invited me to go again next weekend, and I told him that we would surely go again. I then walked back up the hill, sunburned but stronger.

Adventure 3

2008-07-03T06:34:00.001-07:00

Kamakura 6/22/08

I have read that the Saxons measured a day’s time in three waves: a morning-tide, a noon-tide and an evening-tide. This is a good framework to tell the story of this day, which brought distinct waves of moments in the morning and afternoon.

The day began at 6:00, as I prayed, cooked a big breakfast, caught a set of trains and arrived in Kamakura. As I arrived and headed north, I was absorbed into the morning tide: a time of gray skies, lone wandering and stillness. As I walked I was drawn into village shrines: small well kept buildings, with distinct gateways, surrounding gardens of well-trimmed vegetation and well-positioned stones. Entry brought a surge of awareness of bright colors and thoughts of the meaning of the place to the local people. I thought how over hundreds of years people with hope, people with devastation and people with glory have come to pray at this spot. I thought of how time absorbed their emotions into the atmosphere and the illumination that I experienced was a manifestation of this long string of Moments of Truth.

Then I headed up the mountain and followed the signs to a temple. The entrees to the inner gardens and buildings were closed, but the pathways that surrounded the gates were open. I walked in awe of the vegetation, placed so thoughtfully in and around the caves, at the gateways and surrounding paths. Next I found a cave, near a plot of maples and ajisai and entered to meditate. It was my first experience meditating in a cave and it brought a heightened sensitivity to the sounds of nature and body-shaking vibrations while chanting.

I then walked down the mountain and followed a wave of people to the most popular Zen temples. Soon I landed at Engaku-ji, a temple built in commemoration of Japan’s unification and defeat of the Mongols and in the solace of those lost. The temple’s grounds were filled with nearly 20 buildings, coy ponds and gongs. As I walked through, a monk was teaching a meditation class to a large group of sitting students.

As I hiked up the rain came. I wore my jacket like a cape, protecting my backpack from the rain, while enjoying the cool summer shower on my head. I wandered to a blocked off garden surrounded by large buildings with traditional architecture. There was a monk chanting loudly and I listened. I stood for awhile as a large crowd of Japanese joined. The chant was answered by a chest piercing gong and responding chants from the other monks. As I left the garden gateway, I stood and watched the coy in the rain and saw the gong radiate in the water.

Eventually, as all do who stand in the rain, I got wet and found shelter for lunch. I arose from lunch with the sedating noontide that came with an unrelenting rain that made me wetter and wetter, as I hiked south. (Although wet and uncomfortable, the air was warm and I knew the chances of sickness were slim.) Nearly everyone had an umbrella and I was constantly dodging, sometime unsuccessfully, their edges, which were swinging at my neck. With my head down, I quickly passed through multiple temples and shrines and headed back into town and found a place to warm up, read and forget about the wetness.

After I headed back to the Ajisai dera from the week before. The flowers had grown and spread: magnificent. The rain refused to slow and the mood was unstable, so I only stayed for a few minutes before taking flight westward. I had a crazy idea to make it to Hokokuji (bamboo temple) before 5pm, to complete my goals for the day. So I ran and walked about two miles through the pouring rain without a map. For nearly an hour, I zigzagged through side streets, (and often had to retrace my steps) before arriving at Hokokuji at 4:50. As I approached the steps, I read a sign that said it had closed at 4:00. I could not enter. A victory and a defeat. I walked back to Kamakura station drenched, overcome by the noon-tide and ready for some warm soup and a hot shower.

It was a day of ups and downs, but complete. Later that night I felt satisfied and ready for the week. I awoke the next morning with fire.

Night

2008-06-29T00:18:00.000-07:00

Yokosuka 6/28/08

My heart was curious, so I took the train down to Yokosuka on a Saturday night. I met my colleague Marlin, a tall Navy veteran with a deep voice and a wife that is currently in service, outside Yokosuka Chuo station. There we headed for a bite to eat before heading to Hancho or “the Haunch.”

The haunch is a set of side streets filled with bars, restaurants and dance halls. It has a bad reputation because it is frequented by many sailors, who have been known to get drunk and get in fights amongst themselves. In fact, I heard that the reputation for foreigners is so poor that they have been banned from the dance halls. Walking through the streets, I saw more Americans than Japanese.

Marlin showed me into a bar and we sat down to drink and play pool. The bar was filled with male sailors and Japanese women. Besides one Japanese male bartender, I did not see a foreign female or a local male. The speakers were blasting hip-hop and I could have very easily been in any city in the entire world. Marlin and I spoke about life in the Navy, and how it can give a young man discipline and a set of skills that can set him on a fruitful path. He told me about his travels throughout the Mediterranean Sea and the hard 6 hours on/6 hours off, seven days a week work schedule on the ship.

When 11 o’clock came, I left and caught one of the last trains to Oppama. I went and I returned in peace, but I came to the conclusion that such a lifestyle is not for me. The days have been so rich in beauty and learning that I do not wish to sacrifice vitality to the night.

Many people do not awaken until the night, but I have always fallen before I go sleep.

Adventure 1

2008-06-23T03:22:00.000-07:00

Kamakura 6/8/08

I had one mission as I set out for Kamakura (a capital of Japan during the age of the Shogun, rife with history and natural beauty): to see Ajisai dera, a temple that grows an abundance of the ajisai flower (hydrangea). I was told that the flower was particularly beautiful and blooms in the month of June.

The day began with an hour of fiery prayer and meditation and large bowl of rice mixed with natto (a "healthy" fermented bean) and three scrambled eggs. The loneliness of the previous day had left and I headed down the hill to Oppama Station. Seeing all the people and stepping outside the Matty's bubble brought excitement, but quickly turned to distress when I took the wrong train and headed north to Kamiooka. In Kamiooka I was relieved to find a train that had my intended destination posted on its side. This brought a long and peaceful ride of reading, before I changed railway lines and headed to Kamakura.

At the information desk in Kamakura I met a kind smiling woman with light eyes and strong English. She gave me a map, circled Ajisai dera and taught me how to get there. I headed on a train filled with tourists to the destination and arrived at the temple. Oh how glorious is His Face! The temple sat atop a 150 step staircase filled on both sides with multiple colors of ajisai. The garden's vibrant colors, various ages and sizes, as well as sharp change when the clouds altered the sunlight hit me with a dreamlike clarity that I had not experienced since leaving Bhutan. In awe, I walked through the staircase three times. I do not know how much time I spent.

At one point I watched an epic battle between two ants. One was about a centimeter long and the other, a tiny ten milimeter ant, was hanging for its life on its torso. I watched the big ant curl up into a ball, try with all his might to peel it off with his legs, until he finally tucked down hard enough and took the little one's life with a bite from his jaws. It stuck lifeless to his chest and he began to pry the lifeless body off with his legs. The large ant was so focused on this task that it was completley oblivious to the massive human head that was six inches infront of him.

After I came down, I walked down the hill toward Hasa dera, a temple built on the eyebrow of a tall hill that overlooked the city. There were two ponds with coy fish, orchids floating on square rafts and a waterfall fed through bamboo reeds. I passed a set of small buildings as I climbed and reached a hillside ajisai garden and views of the Kamakura beachfront.

Then I took a hike aimlessly through the wild hills up and down multiple seemingly ancient staircases. After some time, I found my way to Zeniaraibenzaiten Shrine. There I read a post that said the shrine was founded by a man who had a dream in the year of the snake, in the snake month and on the snake day that there was a spring in the mountains that would bring healing. Once found, the spring became the major attraction at the Zeniaraibenzaiten Shrine. To get to this shrine one must go through a tunnel through the mountain and under a set of wooden gateways. Within there were springs, shrine buildings, a cave that houses hanging origami sculptures of thousands of small paper cranes connected back to back, and a few sets of young Japanese couples.

After I wandered through thin streets and village shrines, Iarrived at Kamakura Station. On the way back, I stopped in the town of Zushi and hiked to its west-facing beach over Sagami Bay. I have heard that Mt. Fuji can be seen from the beach on a clear day and believe that it will be an ideal sunset spot when the humidity dies down. I then caught the train to Oppama and headed home.

Sunrise

2008-06-16T03:51:00.000-07:00

On a recent morning I awoke while it was still dark and could not go back to sleep. I decided to head up the mountain to catch the sunrise over Tokyo Bay. The morning was partly cloudy with a mist rising from the bay. I waited and then it rose. A massive red ball cut through the morning haze. It appeared as a living Japanese flag. I do not know if this is the norm of the rising sun in Japan or merely the way it rises through the summer humidity or just on that particular morning, but it was much different than the sunrises that I have seen over the Atlantic Ocean and from mountains in America and India. From those locations, the sun was yellow-orange, much smaller coming over the horizon and speckled the surrounding clouds with colors from the entire spectrum. Not so on this recent morning, it appeared as a big red ball in the white haze.

I plan to see more sunrises in the coming months, I will write of what I see and post pictures.

Arrival

2008-06-11T02:33:00.000-07:00

It has been nearly two weeks since I left America and much has come and changed. I have landed and am now settled in a suburb of Yokosuka, Japan named Oppama. It is a unique corner of the Earth and far different than what I had imagined or had experienced before. Its landscape is marked by sharp green hills cutting into the sea and valleys whose every inch is filled with houses of multicolored roofs. There are tunnels everywhere, and the roads are nearly always filled with small box-shaped cars. As in the rest of Japan, there are a lot of people and little space (Japan houses over 100 million people on a land mass that is about the size of California with 70% forested mountains). This is compensated for by thin streets, small houses and small gardens. That said, the Japanese are an immensely clean and industrious people and make use of every inch. They also have a great appreciation for flowers, coy fish and all kinds of animals and nature (You can buy an owl in a pet shop).

I arrived on a Monday afternoon, and after a few problems with the passport and learning how to use the phone I met up with Mitsuo Kyokuta, the president and founder (kaicho) of Matty’s English. Mr Kyokuta, a short, white bearded man of 77 years of age, drove me to his home in Hayama (leaf mountain), where I would stay for four days.

Over this time, I was faced with much challenge and much beauty. Although I got very little sleep, I had to adapt to a new culture and learn the Matty’s teaching method. I woke up nearly every morning before sunrise with a sense of serenity and was able to meditate and pray in peace for the first time in a very long time. On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I observed another teacher and a set of introductory videos and taught my first set of classes on Friday. I was nervous and struggled, but pulled through and made it to the weekend.

Also, Mr. Kyokuta taught me how to drive in the first week. The Japanese drive on the left side of the road and have different driving habits and laws than in America. One tip is to be sure there is space to drive on the other side of the train tracks before you cross. This is because of the immense traffic of cars and constant passing of trains. So, being caught on the tracks with a train coming is a very real possibility for the uninformed driver.

During this time I was also treated with the greatest of hospitality in Mr. and Mrs. Kyokuta’s beautiful home. Immediately I was set up in a “Japanese-style” room, with thatched floor , paper windows and a futon bed that I put away in the closet during the day. The house’s living room had a stunning view of Hayama’s houses, sharp green hills and beachfront. It had a small, but diverse garden of red Japanese Maples, roses and a water fountain. The food was delicious and served every meal with small portions of wide variety of foods, each in its small plate or bowl.

Living in a Japanese home, I learned a bit of custom. Upon entering there homes, the Japanese take off their shoes and put on slippers. Upon entering a traditional Japanese room with a thatched floor they will then remove their slippers. I like this a lot and feel like the ritual brings a sense of purity to a home and sanctity to a bedroom.

On Sunday I went on a fishing outing in the mountains of the Izu Peninsula (near Hakone) with Mr. Kyokuta. I learned how to use a traditional Japanese fishing rod, and was able catch two fish. It was difficult but I greatly enjoyed learning the new technique (tenkara) as well as the time in the beautiful scenery and the gushing river. Afterwards I was taken out for sashimi or raw fish. It was delicious and I woke up the next morning without pain. I was quite relieved and hope that painless eating experiences continue throughout my stay in Japan.

In the second week I moved into the Matty’s dorm (which is an average Japanese house with Japanese style rooms and a small garden) and taught everyday. The classes went much smoother and I ended nearly everyday feeling good about teaching. Each day I spent the mornings preparing the lessons and making props and the afternoons teaching students from two years old to High School. The classroom is English only and I teach common expressions like “Hello, How are you?” and “Today is a sunny day," songs like “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and “Puff the Magic Dragon” and from a textbook. Different ages have different texts, but they basically teach common nouns, adjectives, verbs and sentences.

I have come to like the method very much and believe it produces good results. I watched a very old video and I do not believe the method has changed much since 1971. Because I teach nearly all ages from pre-school to high school, I can see the progression and have noticed that they do learn proper intonation and pronunciation as well as a large vocabulary of English words. I am impressed and hope this attitude and belief in the effectiveness of Matty’s fuels the entire stay in Japan.

So far their has been a wide range of experiences and emotions. I have been down and shaken and have had moments of glory. I have felt distress and loneliness, as well as awe and peace. I hope the extremes have passed and am ready for a season of settling and growth. We shall see what He has in store.

I wish you the best of health and a summer of joy.

(ajisai)

Departure

2008-05-24T20:55:00.000-07:00

In the twilight days of the 11 month stay in my parents house, I embraced that which I had touched and tasted the final crumbs of the plate. Looking forward, I believe the coming journey will be different than past travels. In the past I felt the immanent soil was polluted and I needed to uproot myself and replant in distant earth. Today I feel more complete and grounded. I think tomorrow's travel is similar to the migration of the Junco, who senses the change in climate and heads to the mountains for the summers of life. I believe this is the nature of the coming journey to Japan. As with all adventure the terrain and paths are unknown, but with maturity the objective and destination are clear. May they stay so.

Be strong! Be strong! And may we be strengthened!