In Japan, it doesn`t have to be Halloween for a good GHOST EXPERIENCE!
By Avi Landau
It was early on a Sunday morning. Very early. Five-thirty, in fact. When the door-bell first rang, the slumbering Mr. and Mrs. T, who reside in Tsukuba`s Kukizaki district, both thought they were dreaming. When it chimed again and again, it was finally Mrs. T who reluctantly got out of bed, put on slippers and robe, and went over to the intercom to see just who the heck it was.
'Donata desu ka? (who is it?)', she asked with genuine curiosity. 'Yamomoto desu (Its Yamamoto),' said the male voice that answered.
But since Mrs. T was closely acquainted with more than a few people with the family name Yamamoto, one of the most common in Japan, she still could not figure out who it was.
'Doko no Yamamoto ( Which Yamamoto) ? ', she asked with some irritation.
'Katsushika no Yamamoto ( the Yamamoto from Katsushika, a part of Tokyo`s Shita Machi district)`, he answered.
And she realized immediately who it was. One of her husbands regular golf partners.
Though a bit relieved, the situation was still puzzling- she was unaware of any golf appointement her husband had for that day, and anyway, even if he did what was Mr. Yamamoto doing there so early?
Half asleep and freezing, she let all her doubts pass, by passing off the situation to her husband. She called up to him-' ANATA ( honey) ! Its Yamamoto-San! '
Grumbling, maybe even cursing under his breath, Mr. T went downstairs and opened the front door.
Nobody there. He stepped outside into the cold and dark. Nobody out front either. And no cars parked out on the street. Strange.
He went back inside for his cell phone and gave ol` Yamamoto a call. No answer.
Bizarre. But not enough o as to keep him from heading back into bed and getting back to finsh that good Sunday sleep.
Later in the afternoon, the couple remembered what had happened a few hours earlier in the day ( though it did seem like that had been ages ago), and they decided to give Mr. Yamamoto of Katsushika another call.
This time they got through. Not to Mr. Yamamoto, but to his wife. What they heard from her sent a chill down their spine-
You guessed it. Yamamoto-San, Mr. T`s long time golf partner, had passed away in the wee hours of Sunday morning.
Just another typica,( true)l ghost story that one is likely to hear at any time of year in Tsukuba (or anywhere else in Japan, for that matter).
I heard this one a few months back from Mrs. T herself. Though one other woman at our little lunch gathering gasped in surprise at the story, another woman, Mrs. Sato, was nonchalant and said-"oh yeah. A similar thing happened to me."
I have been saving this little story for Halloween. But as I have already mentioned, it is not the only one of its sort that has come to my ears. In fact living in Japan, I hear true stories of the supernatural on a regular basis.
Im saving some of the other CHILLING stories for future Halloweens! Make sure to check for them!
Musings on Halloween in Japan
I find the growing popularity in Japan of American style Halloween with all its accompanying paraphanalia extremely IRONIC. If people thought about this festival more deeply, I am sure that more than a few Japanese would find it offensive.
This is because Halloween as it is now celebrated in the U.S. can be seen as a kind of PARODY of a system beliefs which are in fact central components of Japanese culture-specifically its seems to be making fun of Japanese ancestor worship, and the important O-Bon festival in particular.
The Japanese have traditionally believed that during the O-Bon period ( which is usually held in mid-August), the spirits of ancestors return to their native homes( guided by lanterns lit in front of each home). The living then proceed to entertain these spirits for a few days- with what are similar to tricks and treats- food and entertainment.
Halloween is an obvious spoof of these customs.Scary yet funny lanterns are carved out of pumpkins to attract the ghosts (little kids dressed in scary costumes) The ghosts are then given food. Once they have gotten their treats, the ghosts go away!
Though the distant roots of America`s Halloween customs remain obscure, it seems clear that they are a continuation, in mock form, of ancient beliefs in spirits which come back to visit this world who need to be fed. Naturally, the church did their best to suppress such beliefs and customs. Their great popularity, however, made them difficult to wipe out and as the centuries have gone by they still survive, in VERY distorted form.
In Japan, however, even today many DO believe that their ancestral spirits come home for some nourishment, company and consolation- and thats not something we should make fun of, is it ?
Halloween decorations at a city run community center in Hojo, Tsukuba
Happy Halloween
An original Halloween creation by Junko Takasaki of Tsukuba- a Jack O` Lantern shaped bread filled with kabocha pumpkin and adzuki beans!
And for those of you who would like some creepy music for the occassion- I once wrote a song ( along with Ascelin Gordon and Tom Debor) called KANASHIBARI. It has been recorded by both Xenophonia and The TenGooz.Listen here:
http://www.jamendo.com/en/track/17116
and
http://www.jamendo.com/en/track/5701
Enjoy!
Print This Post
Myoga (茗荷)- One of Japan`s Distinctive Flavors, from summer through autumn
"Do you know this flower?" asked Hiroshi Ogawa as I came walking through the door. Ogawa-Sensei, a retired science teacher who now spends much of his time studying languages, taking pictures and growing vegetables, is an expert on local flora and fauna and often delights in having people guess what certain plants or flowers are. Once again, he had me stumped.
Still I gave it a shot, and after a long hard look suggested that the delicate white blossom was an orchid of some sort. The twinkling in his eye and the sly grin on his face let me know that I was off the mark even before Mr. Ogawa pulled out the vegetable from which the flower had grown- one of Japan`s most distinctive flavors and a favorite of many afficcionados of Japanese cuisine- MYOGA!
The flower I had seen had had the surrounding bud stripped away from it, making it unrecognizable to me. Ogawa-Sensei had gotten me again!
What is this flower? Some sort of orchid?
The part of myoga that is actually eaten in Japan is the bud. When the flower does bloom, it is normally considered too late to be eaten. Thus, looking at Ogawa-Sensei`s blossom, I realized that the long summer-through-autumn myoga season would soon be coming to an end.
Living in Japan, you might get your first taste of myoga in the year sometime during the rainy season, as a pleasant addition to the meal at a time of year when nothing really tastes very exciting. It might be served in the miso soup, as tempura, or just sliced raw to be eaten with soy sauce as an accompaniment to some sake. The fresh crispiness of the newly sprouted myoga is a welcome indeed during the season when everything else seems to be soggy.
Its the flower of the myoga plant !
When the rains end and Japan`s summer begins in earnest ( in late July), those who enjoy Japanese noodles will surely notice that as part of the seasonings offered on the side ( YAKUMI, 薬味), instead of the usual finely sliced and strongly flavored NEGI ( welsh onions, you will find finely sliced myoga.
The first time someone used to having the negi without being prepared for the difference adds the myoga instead,can be a truly startling taste experience. Instead of the sharp, oniony flavor one expects, one encounters a completely different, truly Japanese taste.
Over the past few weeks while thinking about writing this article, I have been asking almost everyone I mee about how they would characterize this unique taste. In the end, out of all the responses I got, I think it was Mayumi Yasuoka who put it best- myoga tastes like SOIL and WATER!
Packaged myoga at the supermarket
During Japan`s hottest days of August and early September, nothing can be more COOLING than myoga pickles or myoga SUSHI. Yes, that`s right, SUSHI! Looking at it you could even mistake the pickled myoga for some sort of seafood!
This past summer, the same Mayumi-San who was best able to put the taste of myoga into words ( in my opinion), brought me a beautiful and deliciously refreshing batch of myoga sushi with some myoga pickles. I will post her recipe within the next few days.
Mayumi Yasuoka`s delicious myoga sushi
I have mentioned already that the myoga season runs from summer through fall. I would like to clarify that however, and say that there are in Japanese myoga eaten in summer is known as summer myoga ( natsu myoga- which comes out from June through August) while that eaten in autumn is the slightly larger aki myoga ( autumn myoga- which comes out between August and October ).
More of Mayumi-San`s sushi
Eating myoga as a vegetable is a custom limited to Japan. In fact, the scientific name for this relative of ginger, Zingiber mioga, is derived from its Japanese name. It grows from Northern Honshu Island all the way down to Okinawa, but is produced commercially in most abundance in Kochi Prefecture (on Shikoku), Akita Prefecture ( in Northern Honshu), and in Nara Prefecture ( in Western Honshu).
Nutritionally speaking, not only does myoga contain plenty of calcium and potassium, but it is to also help improve circulation, stimulate the appetite, and help with digestion.
Mayumi Yasuoka`a myoga pickles
There is no talking about myoga in Japan without mentioning that eating myoga is said to cause forgetfulness. I have my own theory about the origin of this folk belief. One thing I have noticed from my discussions with people about myoga, is that everyone considers it an ADULT TASTE. In other words, children dont like it. It also seems that older people, and by that I mean elderly people are often very fond of it. Well, maybe that is why eating myoga is linked in the Japanese mind with memory loss- those who eat alot of it really ARE forgetfull.
myoga sliced up as a seasoning (yakumi) for somen- summer noodles
Ogawa-Sensei`s myoga flowers mean that there is not much more time left to enjoy this distictive Japanese taste. At the supermarket today I was still able to find fresh myoga available ( on Oct. 30th). Even after you`ve become an incurable addict ( like so many Japanese gourmets have), DONT FORGET! You read about it first right HERE!
And if you have any good ideas about how to put myogas flavor into words- let me know.
Here is Mayumi-San`s recipe for MYOGA PICKLES (in her words):
You may use any kind of Japanese vinegar. Boil myogas for just 10 seconds and then put them into iced water immediately so that their texture is kept crispy. Mix sugar (1/2 cup), vinegar (3/4 cup),water (1/2 cup), salt (2 tea spoon (kosaji) in a pan, and boil them. Then cool ( this is called tsuke-zu). Put the cold myogas into the tsuke-zu in a bowl and mix. Keep pressing on them using a small dish to keep their crispiness (paripari-kan) and good appearance.
And her original recipe for MYOGA SUSHI:
You may use any kind of Japanese vinegar.
Mix sugar(15 grams), vinegar(18 grams), and salt (5 grams) in a pan. Boil gently, and then cool ( this makes what is called sushi-zu).You may make 1k su-meshi or shari ( a mixture of fresh steamed rice (takitate gohan) with sushi-zu) by using this amount of sushi-zu. Put a couple of Myoga pickles on hand-shaped su-meshi. Buonissimo!
Print This Post
Zakuro (pomegranates) in Japanese Culture- and on Tsukuba`s trees in this season
By Avi Landau
I was surprised when I first noticed that they grew commonly in the gardens of Tsukuba’s newer, as well as older neighborhoods. They were often on branches which had grown out over their houses’ fences , dangling seductively, just over the heads of anyone who happened to be walking along the sidewalk. I had always associated them with the Middle-East (they are listed in the bible as one of the seven species of the Land of Israel), or the Caucasus (where they were originally cultivated), and I had fond memories from many years earlier of staining my face and clothes while very unskillfully partaking of their sour yet sweet and very RED seeds.
I’m talking about pomegranates (zakuro, in Japanese), the large, leathery-skinned, red berries which have been cultivated in Europe and the Near East since ancient times. When the fruit’s casing is cracked open (a tricky thing to do well) the seeds are chewed softly and then spit out.
Pomegranates are a major feature in the food culture of Persia, Armenia, Turkey and Greece, and their juice is drunk in many other countries (there was a big zakuro juice boom in Japan about 4 years ago, as it was promoted for its beauty enhancing and female hormone balancing properties).
Experts claim that the pomegranate had made its way to China by the 3rd century, and there are records of its having appeared in Japan by the 8th. By now, the zakuro has become common in the gardens of private homes in Japan. It is mostly considered to be an ornamental tree, but its fruit is sometimes eaten (though much less frequently than one would expect), turned into juice or liquor, or even used as medicine (for stopping diarrhea, getting rid of parasites, or gargling).
Most people that I have talked to in Tsukuba about these beautiful fruits have told me that even if they had them growing in their gardens they would have only nibbled on them once or twice, since they were difficult to eat and usually too sour for their taste. Home-made Zakuro-Shu (pomegranate seeds soaked in liquor) seems to be, far and away, the most common way of dealing with home grown zakuro (and is surely my favorite way of enjoying them myself!). This lack of interest is good news for any lover of this fruit, because it means that friends, neighbors, or even strangers might give you a bagfull if you hint that you might like some.
Though the zakuro is not a major player in the Japanese culinary world, it does have special cultural significance, especially in connection with KISHIBOJIN (sometimes called Kishimojin or kariteimo), a popular Goddess of childbirth and motherhood who can usually be seen, in sculpture or painting, holding a pomegranate in her right hand. The reason for this is quite simple — zakuro are bursting with an abundance of juicy seeds — making it a perfect symbol of fertility. Pomegranate images also can be found adorning the many famous temples dedicated to this Goddess, who started out on the long cultural journey to Japan as the Hindu Goddess Hariti. Her story is one of learning to empathize with the suffering of others. Here is basically how it goes:
Hariti (Kishibojin) was originally a selfish and heartless (to say the least) woman, who would feed her own numerous children the flesh of other children whom she had abducted and slaughtered (SHE also lived on human flesh). To show her the error of her ways, the Buddha kidnapped one of HER children, keeping him hidden away. This threw Hariti into a state of frenzied anxiety, and she scoured the globe, in vain for her precious son. This experience led her to an awareness of the terrible suffering which she had been inflicting for so long upon countless parents. She became a fervent adherent of Buddhist doctrines, and eventually became revered herself as a protector of children, mothers and marital bliss.
Kishibojin in Hojo in SpringThere are numerous temples in Japan famous for the worship of Kishibojin. These almost always feature statues of her holding a zakuro. Besides it being a symbol of fertility, some say that the bloody red seeds of the pomegranate represent a replacement for the human flesh on which she and her children once lived.
The most famous of these temples in Tokyo are in Meguro, Zoshigaya and Iriya (this last Kishiboji Temple hosts the famous annual morning glory market). Closer to home, in Tsukuba’s Hojo district , I was introduced to a small and secluded, hill-top shrine dedicated to the Goddess (her Shinto manifestation – Suiten) by local artist and musician Thomas Mayers (it is a favorite spot of his). I had almost discovered the place myself once, but the Japanese friend who was driving me was frightened off by the creepy Jizo signboards posted at the foot of the hill. Possibly the most interesting feature of this too little known spot is the large natural rock used as the washing basin (chozuya). There is also an old and mostly faded painting (on a wooden tablet) of Kishibojin and her children.
A Japanese language encyclopedia I consulted stated that there were different attitudes towards zakuro, as connected with Kishibojin, depending on the region. Ibaraki was used as an example for an area which has a very positive image. The article said that in Ibaraki children are set to play under pomegranate trees, as it will keep them healthy, especially emotionally (I have been asking around but I have found no one to confirm this story).
In contrast, the entry said that in Tottori Prefecture the zakuro is avoided because it looks like blood, and, I quote, likes to hear the sick moan.
For much more about Kishibojin, and plenty of pictures see www.onmarkproductions.com/html/kariteimo
- A hanging scroll depicting zakuro (pomegrantes) that I found being displayed as a seasonal decoration in Tsuchiura (Oct. 2010)
And for those interested, here is a song which Thomas and I co-wrote. Its called Babylon,and was recorded by the Tsukuba based band- The Tengooz:
http://www.jamendo.com/en/track/569916
Print This Post
Put On Your Gloves and Get Out Your Chopsticks! There are still GINGKO NUTS to be gathered!
By Avi Landau
It is well known that smells have the power to unleash long dormant memories. As I was walking along a path between Tsukuba University`s Medical School and the Oikoshi Dorm complex, I came upon a scent which took me back to the time when I was about 4 or 5 years old, and would be taken to kindergarten in a car pool, by a different mother each day. I remembered how I never liked getting into my little friend, Michael Slokowsky’s mothers’s car. That was because either Michael, or his little brother, had at some point thrown up in the back seat. And though all the vomit had been cleaned up, no matter how vigorously the Slokowskys scrubbed, or how much freshener they sprayed, they just couldn’t get rid of that smell, which not continuously, but occasionally and consistently would jolt my budding young olfactory glands.
This nostalgic (for me) aroma could only mean one thing on a warm autumn day in Tsukuba: the gingko nuts were falling down and being crushed by cars, bicycles and pedestrians! Sure enough I checked the sidewalk, and it was true! A little earlier than I would have had expected.
In downtown Tsukuba, both sides of the Gakuen road are lined with gingko trees (itcho, イチョウ) for a couple of kilometers, and the female trees usually drop prodigious amounts of their smelly, but healthy and delicious, nuts on the road and sidewalk. As you can imagine, early-bird gingko nut (ginnan) lovers are out first thing in the morning trying to gather up their fill of this expensive (if store bought) seasonal delicacy. Plenty of gingko tree also grow in Tsukuba`s parks, temples and campuses.
For this task they need to bring the necessary equipment, which means at least a pair of plastic gloves and a plastic bag, but often includes a pair of long chopsticks. When I first saw this, I thought these people just didn’t want to get their hands all stinky. It turns out, though, that touching the fruit which contains the nut, can cause terrible skin rashes which take a long time to go away.
Many locals, especially the elderly, like to have two or three nuts a day (more than that is said to be bad for you) as they believe it is good for the heart. Some believe that it acts as an aphrodisiac. In Western countries the extract (in pill form) has become popular at health food stores (though the trees and fresh nuts are not common due to the unusual odor and mess they create).
If you would like to gather and prepare some gingko nuts yourself (and well you should!) here is how to go about it. Go to the Gakuen road, or even better (or safer) to Doho Park, at the western entrance, and put as many of the fruit as you can in a plastic bag. When you take this home, dump them into a bucket of water and wash them, removing the nuts from the fruit (don’t forget that you need plastic or rubber gloves).
Dry the nuts thoroughly.
The simplest thing to do next is to put the dried nuts in a paper envelope and microwave them for about 90 seconds. you might want to sprinkle them with some salt first.
Mika Kido, a gingko nut enthusiast who lives in Azuma, the heart of the nut gathering scene, recommended that I buy a traditional roasting pan called a ho-roku, which look like this.
Remember no matter how much you like them, only eat a few per day.
Also, if you get around by bicycle, take extra care as the fruits littering the sidewalk can be dangerously slippery.
Enjoy!
Gingko nuts I got from Mayumi Yasuoka
Postscript
Yesterday I was lucky enough to have recieved a gift of a few dozen freshly gathered and cleansed gingko nuts from Mayumi Yasuoka. Mayumi-San is a third generation Edo-Ko ( Tokyo-ite) and is a true city girl. Still she (and her mother I am told) always try to stay conscious of the changing seasons by enjoying traditionally representative seasonal foods, many of which they gather themselves.
Mayumi-San used gloves to pick up the fallen nuts and then buring them in sand. She then scrubbed them with scouring soap. The results were presented to me looking like large pistachios ( in a beautiful envelope she had made herself- remeber it is not only taste but presentation that is important!).
After zapping them in the microwave, I sat enjoying them, noticing how many different shades of green the edible part of the nuts can be.
Mayumi insists that you can eat as many gingko nuts as you like ( and maybe that is why she is always so energetic), but still I controlled myself and had only a few. And then a few more!
Print This Post
Riding the Tsukuba Express (TX) on a weekday- a True Story
By Avi Landau
Despite the refreshingly cool and fragrant autumn air, so welcome after the long months of relentless and stultifying heat, I was exhausted. And though the ride back to Tsukuba would take less than an hour, I was in no mood to be standing for most of the way. I dont know what was wrong with me, but for the past few weeks I just hadnt been feeling that old power and stamina, that old ZIP that I had always taken for granted. So now while all around me were the lights and hustle-bustle of one of the world`s most vibrant cities, my own body seemed to move as if slogging through a bog . All the neon illumination and frenetic human and mechanical movement only had me seeing things in a blur.
It had been quite a while since I had been to Tokyo on a weekday, so when I got to the station at Akihabara and ran into the rush-hour crowds I got a bit irritated and even a bit claustrophobic as I jockeyed myself into position in front of the ticket vending machines.When I finally slipped my way up to one, I had difficulty getting enough change out of my sweaty, overstuffed pants pocket, and clumsilly fumbled some of the coins that I was able to claw out. Getting my ticket and passing through the turnstiles I summoned up my last bits of strength and propelled myself down the escalators, which seemed to me endlessly deep at that moment,( like the Moscow or St. Petersberg subway stations which were built to double as air-raid shelters) hoping to get myself a seat on the train.
Finally reaching the platform level, I instinctively headed for the front car, having always believed that part of the train to be the least crowded. Also, as someone who takes a keen interest in Japanese culture, I have always tended to ride in the front car, standing up looking out ahead as the train drove on and enjoying the drivers POINTING and CALLING- the unique gestures and cries ( quite amusing to the foreign eye) which have helped keep Japanese public transportation and factories so accident free.
Much to my relief, the doors to the train were already standing open and I COULD easilly get a seat in the first car. WHEW. It was great to get a load of my feet, and the backpack full of books which I always lug around, off my back. When I settled onto the bench, I leaned back and noticed a poster hanging across from me promoting Mt Tsukuba as a POWER SPOT ( a place at which one could take in positive KI energy!?), and I thought to myself that I had better try to get to that mountain sometime, instead of just admiring it at a distance from my stairwell window. I was definitely in need of some recharging.
Letting all my muscles relax and taking in a deep breath,I brought my line of sight back down to eye level. I noticed something. Every other passenger in the sparsely settled car besides me was a WOMAN. " Hey! This is not bad at all ", I thought to myself. Especially compared to some of the hellacious rides that I remembered on last-trains back to Tsuchiura in the days before the TX, on the Joban Line, jam-packed with inebriated salary-men.
Trying to remain unfazed and under control, I reached down into my book bag and pulled out some reading material. I have to admit, though that while I was staring at the pages I could not concentrate on the what was printed on them. Instead I found that I was trying to pose myself , and starting to make those silly faces one makes when trying to look cool while looking in the mirror. This is because I realized, much to my consternation, that most of the women in the car, were unmistakably LOOKING AT ME- in other words: giving me the eye. It had been a long time indeed since anyone had CHECKED ME OUT, and I was thinking-" Hey! For some reason I must have gotten back the ol` charm for tonight! The ol` magic!"
I tried to remain cool and keep my eyes in my book,but I couldnt resist glancing around at all the women who it seemed could not help but glance over at me. This was gonna be a sweet ride home.
Just as I started to scour my mind for some of the old lines I used to know which were always good for breaking the ice and opening up a conversation, my heart almost stopped! One of the women sitting across from me had tentatively gotten up and had started moving towards me- maybe to introduce herself- Avi! Get a hold of yourself , I thought! Keep your cool!
The woman looked at me nervously, and seemed as if she wanted to communicate with me but not knowing whether I spoke Japanese or not, was searching for just the right English words to introduce herself. It seemed she couldnt think of what to say, and she finally resorted to a gesture. She pointed at a sign on the wall. It was pink and had Japanese and English writing on it.
It read: WOMEN ONLY
and then in very small print: On weekdays first car heading (to) Tsukuba for women only from 6:34 PM until the last train
Oh...
The blood rushed warmly to my face. I swept up bag, and mind a blank, slipped out of the women-only compartment, head down,muttering a few SUMIMASENS ( excuse me), propelled more by the hot air being let out of my quicky deflating ego than by muscular force. The next thing i knew I was standing in the next car. Naturally, there were no seats open there. But somehow I didnt feel so weak anymore anyway. I held onto one of the cold, metal poles to keep my balance and dazedly stared up at the electronic information board. I watched as the little round lights which represent the stations along the line, lit up, one after the other, after the other- as we hurled forward towards the last stop.
Print This Post