Years of asking around eventually led to meeting a few elderly locals who knew what these markers were. Little by little I have been able to clear up the mystery of these mounted stick figures. This EXTREMELY LOCALIZED CUSTOM will now be explained for the first time in English (and maybe Japanese as well).

Simply put, the stick figures represent JIZO, one of the most familiar and beloved figures in Buddhist iconography. Anyone who has travelled around Japan and has been to its famous temples has probably seen these monk-like images (sometimes in great numbers), often dressed up by worshippers in shirt, coat, bib or hat, or maybe with some stones piled on them. Jizo, or more respectfully O-Jizo Sama, is a Bodhisattva (one who delays his own Buddha-hood in order to aid in the salvation of others), and because of that has come to be venerated in Japan starting in the Heian period (794-1185). For MUCH MORE DETAILED INFO on just about everything related to Jizo go to this page.

Jizo is regarded as the protector of children (including those who passed away before having been born) and also as a source of solace for dead souls.

The interesting thing around these parts is that when someone passes away, the neighborhood committee (in charge of helping with funerals) prepares these uniquely rustic Jizo figures (even if there are stone Jizos in the cemetery).

The stick figure Jizo placards are set up at the entrance to roads which lead to the cemetery, as a set of two, each with three Jizo characters. This is because Jizos are often found as a set of six, with that number being of great significance in Buddhism.  The graveyard Jizos represent the SIX REALMS OF EXISTENCE, or SIX PATHS (rokudo). The custom of setting up these signboards began with the intention of helping guide the dead souls to wherever it is they have to go. If you look at the photos I have taken, you can see three nails sticking out of each board. Sometimes there are candles fastened onto them (to guide the dead) and sometimes even chili peppers (which serve as imitation flames).

A more practical purpose served by these Jizo boards is helping to guide the Living to the graveyard, which can often be hard to find out in the country. The jizo placards mark the entrance to the paths or roads leading to the cemetery.

So, next time you come across these strangely primitive markers, don't run away! It's not black magic or voodoo. It's just jizo, helping the spirits on their way.

1 Comments

• At October 21, 2008, Dan Waldhoff wrote:

  Aloha Avi sama,

  The details of life your writings provide are like oshinko to my rice.

  I can't thank you enough,

  Dan

Tsukuba`s Meteorological Observation Tower Will Disappear in June

When not exactly sure of where we are in Tsukuba, locals and long time residents, always look for Mt Tsukuba`s familiar, semi-crushed M shape. When we spot it, we immediately gain our bearings.

When it is too cloudy, or hazy ( as it often is in summer) to spot the  familiar mountain, there is another landmark, which Tsukubans have turned to, to find their way- the 213 meter tall steel tower which since 1975 has been standing within the spacious precincts of the National Meteorological Research Institute.

With its  blinking beacons, it is especially visible at night, and when returning to Tsukuba from other parts, whether by car or by bus,  its flashing lights are always like a warm and reassuring WELCOME HOME.

The Meteorological Measurement Tower

You can imagine how dismayed I was then, to find out, that this highest of all structures in Tsukuba, has been deemed to have outlived its usefulness, and judged too costly to maintain. In other words, it has been condemned, and will be dismantled by the end of June.

I once had the good fortune to have been invited, by a researcher affiliated with the institute, to go up to the top of orange and white tower. I was amazed by how much time the small elevator ( capacity-3) took to get to the top- about 20 minutes! A veritable snail`s pace!

The view from the top was worth the long ride and the frosty temperatures, though, with Mt Tsukuba, Lake Kasumigaura and Mt Fuji all visible.

There is also a ladder which can be climbed to the top- not for the acrophobic! I have heard that this route up has been illicitly used by various late night-thrill seekers, including students from a nearby ( and quite famous) private school.

The tower through the trees

The tower was used to take collect all sorts of meteorological data, which can now be gathered by other means, using newer technologies.

I think I speak for all of those who have grown familiar with, and fond of this tower, when I say I will be sad to see it gone ( though when it IS gone, on very windy days I will no longer have to keep a nervous eye on it as I pass within its falling range!) 

Some of the small woods near the tower

I`m also concerned about what will happen to the area around it after it is dismantled. It is now  a sort of unofficial nature preserve, with plenty of trees and open meadows to provide a haven for birds and small mammals.Unfortunately, most of this will in all probability quickly disappear.

Deconstruction work has already begun, so if you`d like to take some memorial photos or call out a final farewell, you`d better hurry up.

Alas !What will will we look to now when lost on foggy days or by the dark of night?

Here is what Ive written about Tsukuba`s notorious non-working windmills, and what happened to them:

http://blog.alientimes.org/2008/10/tsukubas-non-turning-windmills-turned-objets-dart-gone-with-the-wind/

Source: Tsukuba City Hall Newsletter, November 1, 2007

After WWII, however, the Occupation Authorities, in an effort to swing Japan into a new non-militaristic direction (except of course, if it meant fighting communists!), had these monuments destroyed or moved out of plain sight (for the less provocative memorial slabs). 

While exploring the backroads of Tsukuba, you will find that each BURAKU or traditional village has its own cenotaphs, large stone slabs with the names of local war dead engraved on them, hidden away in the shadows. Sometimes they are out in the open, but then, they are usually well off the beaten track.

I have recently written about General Maresuke Nogi, who led the Japanese army to victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905. This great triumph came at a heavy price: up to 80,000 Japanese dead (not to mention tens of thousands of Russian casualties). The General, who lost his only 2 sons in the war, was ordered not to kill himself in repentance, as he wanted to, since he had been carrying out the will of the emperor.

One way that Nogi tried to atone for the immense loss of life he had helped bring about was the erecting of monuments across the country (and abroad as well) at which the spirits of those fallen could be consoled.

Near the Sakura City Office, in Higashi-Oka, is a shrine-like structure which is a Fudo Worship Hall. About 20 meters south of this building, hidden from view by the shadows cast by surrounding trees, there is another, much smaller, shrine-like structure, which is usually locked. I had often tried to peek through the cracks, but it was always too dark to make out what was being sheltered inside.

One day, as I walked past, I saw the door to the structure open. An elderly woman was sweeping nearby. It turned out that she was the mother-in-law of my acquaintance Mrs Okamino (who was in charge of the Fudo-Ko Ceremony I have written about). 

I finally found out what was inside. A small shrine housing the spirit of Lt. Colonel Okamino, the old woman's grandfather! He was among the dead of 1905. She then pointed out, further into the shadows, a large stone monument to the local men who fell in the Russo-Japanese War.

Taiyaki in Tsukuba

Where just recently were forest and field, now stands an immense (by Japanese standards) shopping mall called Iias, which some believe means "a good tomorrow" (ii asu), while others insist that it is named after the great warlord and founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate, Ieyasu. The debate rages on. Wandering its corridors the other day reminded me a bit of the huge airport outside of Kuala Lumpur, which at one time was the biggest terminal in the world. The small number of travellers utilizing that facility (it's hard to compete with the Changi Airport in Singapore, which is relatively nearby) makes it seem even more spacious than it really is, and quite a bit forlorn as well. I had the same feeling passing by the mostly empty, generic shops at cavernous Iias. Even the book store, which I had been looking forward to browsing at, proved to be richer in square meterage than in good books. I have never seen a book store in Japan with so much empty space between aisles.

Gin-no-An

After buying a book (I couldn't resist), I made my way down to the ground floor and spied in the distance a kiosk type shop (one that you cannot enter) which actually had a long line of customers waiting patiently to be served. From afar I saw that the shop was called Gin No An (銀の餡) and I curiously approached it to find out what it was selling -- ah-ha -- tai yaki (鯛焼き) those fish shaped waffle-like snacks usually filled with bean paste. I asked how long the wait would be, and was told 45 minutes! Well, I had my newly purchased book with me, so I figured, what the heck, these MUST be great tai yaki with a line this long. I asked my fellow liner-uppers if this was a famous chain, and was told that it was, and that there were always lines like this in front of this outlet, in fact usually even longer.

I tore open the plastic bag containing my book, held it up to my face, and fanned through its pages, inhaling that exhilarating NEW BOOK smell, and started reading while I waited. And wait is what I did. After a while I began to feel ON EDGE, not only because of the unusually long stand-around, but also because I'm a very impressionable reader, and the novel I had just started was Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, the story of a young woman's descent into MADNESS. Fortunately, the line eventually advanced far enough so that I could now observe the staff, deep in concentration, scraping the grills clean, filling them with dough, adding filling, etc., which made the waiting (something I don't usually do)  easier, and calmed my nerves a bit.

When it was finally my turn to order, I just couldn't make up my mind as to what filling to get, as GIN NO AN offers an interesting selection, so I took the easy way out and ordered the special six- type set. I  was promptly given a hefty, steaming bag of tai yaki. Since I knew that if I opened the bag then and there I would end up eating the WHOLE BATCH by myself, I decided I would take them back to the Japanese friends I would be meeting later.

Not only were they thrilled by the special treat I had brought, but the tai yaki proved to be a great conversation piece, stimulating a long and excited discussion. The key question my friends asked each other was how they went about eating tai yaki -- from the head or from the tail? My group seemed to be divided on the subject, some liked starting with the head and working down (since the tip of the tail has no bean paste some thought it was a mouth freshener -- KUCHI NAOSHI -- at the very end), while those who loved the bean paste finished with the bean-filled heads. There were also those individualists who actually broke the Tai Yaki open and ate each half from the inside out! I also found that there were those who liked crispy outsides, and those who prefered them soft, and of course, there was the question of favorite fillings. In fact I hadn't had such an animated discussion with these friends since I had asked them what kind of ramen they liked!

Of course, I put in my own two cents, a little bit about the history of these long popular fish-shaped snacks (for many Japanese they are actually a light meal!)

The original Tai Yaki shop

Tai yaki were the creation of the Naniwaya-So-Honten (浪花家総本店) of Azabu Tokyo, which first started making them way back in 1904. The tai (鯛), or Japanese sea bream, has long been considered a sign of fortune and celebration. This is because of its red color, and even more importantly because the name TAI sounds like the ending of OMEDETAI, which means "something to celebrate". Back in the early 20th century, real sea bream were too expensive for the average Japanese, so when the sweet shop in Azabu made inexpensive tai shaped waffles filled with bean paste they were a big hit. And while most such big sellers quickly fade away in Japan, the popularity of tai yaki has proved enduring.

Tai -- fish for festive occasions

The peak of this popularity appears to have been in the mid-1970s with the appearance of a surprise hit-song "Oyoge! Tai Yaki-kun" (Swim! Tai Yaki) which was originally marketed as a children's song but whose lyrics hit a chord with the average salary-man (the fish, tired of being grilled everyday, escape to the sea!). The song's success fuelled a tai yaki craze at the time. Like most fads in Japan, however, after a few weeks of intense airplay, this song was hardly ever heard again (in fact I had never heard it until this week). The snacks themselves still live on, while the song merely remains ingrained the memories of people of a certain age who happen to be eating them. Oh, you can hear the song here.

These days tai yaki can be found in many different sizes and with various fillings. Gin No An has chestnut, sweet potato, sesame, etc., while the tai yaki vendor at the Seibu department store in Tsukuba has custard cream filling.

It is my interest in these very common and uncelebrated flowers that led me to the discovery of a bizarre state of affairs in the world of Japanese-English translation -- especially in regard to the names of certain plants.

Knowing the roadside flowers to be tachi-aoi (立葵) and confirming that the same flowers were called hollyhock in English, I tried to learn more about their history and cultural associations. At first I was surprised that the ancient Aoi Matsuri Festival (葵祭) was often referred to as the Hollyhock Festival in English guidebooks and other texts.

I also discovered that the  J-League 2 soccer club representing the capital of Ibaraki was called The Mito Hollyhock. This name was chosen because the crest of the great Tokugawa Family which ruled the Mito Domain for centuries consisted of  3 futaba-aoi leaves. This crest has been made extremely famous by the classic TV series Mito Komon. The Wikipedia article on hollyhock also said that that flower was the symbol of the Mito Clan.

At first I was excited. These flowers that I alone seemed to be interested in appeared to have highly distinguished historical and cultural associations. I wanted to write about this. Luckily , I started to dig further.

I did this because I still had lingering doubts about the connection between aoi and tachi-aoi. I had been to the Aoi Matsuri and seen that the  Aoi associated with that festival was a leaf. I had even taken one as a souvenir and kept it in my wallet. The seal of the Mito Clan also consisted of  3 leaves (representing the 3 branches of the Tokugawa Family).

The leaves on the Mito Crest and the aoi leaf in my wallet looked NOTHING like the leaves of the hollyhock (tachi-aoi).Photos in field guides also showed me that tachi-aoi was the roadside flower, but I could find no pictures of aoi in any bookstore flower guide.

To make a long story short, I became slightly obsessed with getting to the bottom of this mystery. At the library I was able to confirm that the scientific name of tachi-aoi(hollyhock) was Althaae rosea , and that the symbol of the Mito Tokugawa and of the Aoi Matsuri was a plant with NO COMMON ENGLISH NAME but known as Asarum caulescens among botanists and futaba-aoi among the Japanese (see photo. These two plants have NO CONNECTION other than being PLANTS and having the character aoi (葵)in their names.

Finally, I went to the Tsukuba Botanical Garden to consult with Dr. Tadamu Matsumoto. He was also astonished that the Mito Soccer team had been called Hollyhock, as there was no botanical connection between futaba-aoi (the highly esteemed leaves on Mito Komon's emblem) and the common roadside tachi-aoi (hollyhock).

There is obviously a big problem with translation when dealing with the names of plants which are not familiar to the translators. These types of errors occur not only in Wikipedia and blogs but also in respected journals, dictionaries and encyclopedias. I fell victim to such a mistaken translation when writing about the Boy's Day (Tango No Sekku) traditions in Japan (Tango no Sekku over the Ages).

In my article I mistakenly wrote that the Japanese put irises(the Japanese term is shobu 菖蒲） in their baths and on their rooves on that day. I had gotten this translation from very respectable source books. However, I later realized that the shobu used is NOT an iris(hana-shobu) at all but a completely unrelated plant called CALAMUS(related to taro) by botanists and which was believed by the ancient Chinese and Japanese to have the power to expel evil and bad luck.

For me hollyhocks are amazing flowers and are worthy of having a soccer team named after them. But I'm sure that the citizens of Mito will not be pleased to learn that their team is named after the TACHI-AOI and NOT the  revered FUTABA-AOI.

It's like calling the Seibu Baseball club The Azarashi (sea lions) instead of The Lions. Why not? They are both mammals!

3 Comments

• At July 7, 2008, Avi wrote:

  The day after I made this posting I chanced upon what might be the actual source (or very near it) of the misuse of the English flower name hollyhock as used to represent futaba-aoi leaves used in the Aoi Matsuri Festival and in the crest of the Mito Tokugawa. I had a few minutes to spare before heading out for the day and I settled in a chair and browsed the books nearest to me.

  There was Ivan Morris' translation of the Makura no soshi (枕草子) in the Columbia University edition. Leafing through the text, I found Chapter 17, with the heading "Things That Arouse A Fine Memory Of the Past" on page 51. The first item listed was dried hollyhock. There it was. But could anyone understand this translation? I hurriedly looked for my Japanese version and found that the original text read "kareta aoi", something quite different, even if the aoi referred to were hollyhock.

  Morris' translation implies something purposely dried, for medicine, or as an ingredient for food. What Sei Shonagon is referring to however is the discovery of the aoi leaves of some past festival which had been stashed away in somewhere as a keepsake and are discovered all dried out and withered bringing back memories of festivals past.

  Morris actually made a footnote for his hollyhock translation on page 284 which reads from the sixth line: I am grateful to professor Cranston for pointing out (Harvard Journal Of Asiatic Studies vol.xxix p. 260) that the aoi used in the Kamo Festival is not althea rosa (hollyhock) but asarum caulescens, which is a form of snake weed or bistort with paired, flesh-colored flowers. A more accurate translation of Aoi Matsuri would therefore be Bistort Festival, BUT I TRUST BOTANISTS WILL NOT BE OFFENDED IF I CALL IT HOLLYHOCK FESTIVAL (emphasis mine)!

  One of the legends of Japanese-English translation, can thus be found guilty in my opinion of being flippant about the simple naming of things. I guess he felt that hollyhock sounded nice. But since that actual flower (tachi aoi) is so common Morris' legacy in this case can lead to embarrassing mistakes, such as hearing that the roadside flowers are hollyhock and then saying "Oh,those are the flowers used in the Aoi Matsuri", or "That is the symbol of the Tokugawa Family!"

  I am a great admirer of Morris' work, but in this case I think he was WRONG. Let's be more careful, everyone, and verify the plants and animals we are translating!

• At August 11, 2008, Vendo Thefastlane wrote:

  I'm afraid that while you are correct, the idea that the team was incorrectly named more than 10 years ago is not quite true. Every fan knows that the word "hollyhock" means tachi aoi. Whether the people understand the difference is a different story though. I, for one, would never know the difference between hollyhock or any number of flowers if I had no connection to the team because I don't dig flowers.

  The logo happens to contain the Tokugawa seal but any source claiming that hollyhock refers to that seal is a bit of conjecture. The team just wanted an English name and decided to go with an aoi flower, as you stated... It just happened to be a conscious decision rather than a mistake. In more recent history, the cheerleading team was named the "Holy's" even as I objected in the planning stages, promoting the term "Hollies" instead. The name has continued to be "Holy's" because the higher ups just like the way it looks written that way.

  Besides, the team would have to have its name approved for appropriateness by the Japan Soccer League, then later the Japan Football League, and finally the J. League. In all cases, it was known to be a translation of "tachi aoi".

  Anyway, I'm happy that the team got your attention in any case. I hope sometime you make the short drive up to Mito and enjoy a match, or catch a game on SkyPerfecTV. They're a lot of fun. :)

  http://www.mito-hollyhock.com

• At August 15, 2008, Avi wrote:

  Sorry for ragging on your team. I just wanted to point out certain problems in translating plant names which seems to have originated in the aesthetic whims of certain famous scholars. I could have just as well called that article "Ancient Kyoto Festival (Aoi Matsuri) misnamed in English guidebooks" (Hollyhock Festival). I think it could lead to problems for those interested in flowers as they would think that hollyhock was actually used in that festival. I will make sure to catch a game (or maybe even more), as I do like Mito, am starting to like soccer, and love TACHI-AOI. Cheers

O-inu no fuguri (Veronica persica)

They bloom low to ground and in abundance, forming a cobalt blue carpet of tiny flowers beside Japan`s vegetable and rice fields and in its wild open spaces. And though they have only been present in Japan since the late 19th century, many Japanese consider their blossoming a signal that spring has come. This is not only because they bloom before the cherry trees (sakura) but also because being so low down, and so cute and pretty that they make more of an impression on small children than do Japan`s more revered spring blossoms. Thus their appearance in March ( or earlier) brings back a flood of memories to many people. 

When I first pointed these flowers out to a Japanese neighbor of mine years ago, she told me that they were called O-inu no fuguri. At that time I could not undertand exactly what this name implied, but I could catch that it meant A DOG`S SOMETHING OR OTHER, but I had no idea what FUGURI meant. When I asked my neighbor, she turned a bit red, and told me that she was two embarrassed to say! 

My curiosity peaked, I went home and took out my dictionary. Fuguri meant BALLS..... I mean testes or testicles! Later at the library I read that these flowers were given that name because a part of them supposedly resembled a dogs bullocks. Going back for another look at the flowers, I just couldnt see it. 

Tiny testes shaped fruit

An O-inu no fuguri in my hand

I got down to have a closer look. In fact, I got all the way down to the ground, laying on my side to examine the little flowers. There they were, under the flowers, two little fruits, which look like..... well.... er.... dog testicles.

Still I think it quite odd that these very cute flowers be so coarsely named.Especially in the polite world of Japanese botany and horticulture. Whoever it was who decided on it, sure had balls!

For more pics ( and much better ones than mine), go here: 

http://rokkoflower.cool.ne.jp/souhon/sub704.html 

And dont forget to look for them outside!

2 Comments

• At April 20, 2010, Eiji wrote:

  I like these two names too.

  Hekusokazura

  Mamakonoshirinugui

  I bet you know!

• At April 25, 2010, name tags wrote:

  Thanks for the post, enjoyed it.

Compared to other places in this mountainous and densely populated archipelago, Tsukuba offers plenty of open space. One surprising feature for me when I first arrived was the abundance of open fields of grass, lawns not fenced off, which tempted me to take off my shoes and run, play fetch with my dog, have a picnic or a nap.

If you have or have given into the same urges you might want to think twice before indulging or re-indulging. This is because these enticing plots of green (or gold in winter) are not meant for your recreation. They are actually agricultural fields belonging to local farmers and the grass is an important cash crop (Tsukuba City is the number 1 grass producer in the country). Thus, by walking or running on the turf you might be damaging the goods and subsequently cutting into the farmers earnings (unlike the US, however, nobody will threaten you with a shotgun).

Even if you don't give a hoot about the farmers, you might want to know that these fields are chock-full of powerful chemical fertilizers and pesticides. Many Japanese families with such fields around their houses don't drink water from their wells and I've also heard it said that dogs have been sickened by daily walks on these lawns.

Turf lawn growing has a long history in Tsukuba. Before and during the war, farmers grew the grass which was used for airstrips and runways. After the war, turf has been used for river embankments, parks, and sport fields. The business really took off with the boom in golf-course construction in the 1980s. The golden days of the golf clubs has long passed, but there is still a demand (though quite reduced) for lawn put into private homes, sport facilities and parks. Tsukuba City still produces 50 percent of the crop and remains the number one producer.

The Union of Turf Grass Growers in Tsukuba has announced that it has developed 3 new varieties of turf-grass: Tsukuba-Hime, Tsukuba-Kagayaki and Tsukuba-Taro, all which have been designed for resistance to disease and hardiness to cold and other climatic problems which have made life for other species difficult.

You can see farmers seeding grass fields in March and April, and maintenance being carried out throughout the year. Harvesting happens whenever grass is needed somewhere.

So, next time you pass by an enticing open field, even if there is no sign posted, you might want to KEEP OFF THE GRASS!

For example, there is a diagram on page 15 (of the pdf file, page 5 of the paper document) that outlines the history of merges that created the city. I knew that Tsukuba was created out of Toyosato Town, Oho Town, Sakura Village, Yatabe Town, Tsukuba Town, and Kukizaki Town, but I did not know that Toyosato was originally Kamigo Town, which itself was originally Kamigo Village.

Page 25 (page 15 of the paper document) lists statistics on the weather from 1998 to 2007, including annual average temperatures, annual high and low temperatures, annual average humidity, annual average wind speed, annual precipitation, and hours of sunlight. It also lists the monthly amounts of the above variables for 2007.

Page 26 (16), says that the area of Tsukuba is 284 km2 with a population of 206,661 (as of October 1, 2007). The population density is 727.5 people per square kilometer. The average household had 2.5 people. There were 5.7 births per day and 3.5 deaths per day. 37.2 people moved into the city per day, and 30.3 people moved out of the city per day. 3.6 couples got married per day and 1.0 couples got divorced per day. As of October 1, 2007, there were 7154 foreigners living in the city, representing 127 countries.

Page 27 (17):
4388 books borrowed from the library per day
1452 people used community centers per day
1.5 cars per household
19 ambulances sent out per day
0.3 fires per day
4.1 traffic accidents per day
207.5 tonnes of garbage produced per day
177,910 yen of municipal tax paid per person
108.3 city hall staff members per person in Tsukuba (1878 staff members in total)

Page 28 (18) has a chart that puts Tsukuba in perspective in Ibaraki.
4th in Ibaraki for size, but 1st for residential land
2nd in Ibaraki for population
14th for population density
7th for youth population
2nd for working-age population
43rd for senior age population
6th for births
51st for deaths
4th for incomes (3.7 million per person)
21st for number of hospitals per person
3rd for number of medical clinics per person
1st for number of doctors per person
10th for number of nurses per person
4th for number of traffic accidents per person
4th for number of traffic fatalities per person

Page 31 (19): Population
More men than women
Drop in population every March, influx every April
More people in the city in the daytime than the night
Page 48 (36) has a breakdown of the foreign population

Page 51 (38): Industry

Page 72 (57): Land

Page 79 (60): Residential

Page 85 (63): Parks

Page 89 (65): Water and Sewage

Page 93 (67): Security
1489 traffic accidents in 2007, 15 fatalities, 1955 injuries, 6505 instances of damage to property

Page 99 (71): Environment and Sanitation

Page 105 (74): Consumption

Page 108 (76): Welfare and Social Services

Page 116 (81): Education

Page 122 (85): Elections

Page 126 (86): Finance

Page 134 (91): City Hall Employees

This part of Japan is unique. The view from Mt Tsukuba, which reveals a vast plain stretching out to the horizon, must have amazed the ancient residents of this mountainous archipelago. There is no other place like it in Japan. Flat and fertile land as far as the eye can see. With the establishment of Edo (now Tokyo) as the seat of the Tokugawa Shogunate (1600-1867), you would imagine that this area, a mere 50 kilometers away, would have been targeted for development during the Edo Period.

This was not the case, however. Forty years ago, when surveyors for the central government set out to find possible locations for a proposed science city, they didn't have to travel very far from Tokyo. A long strip of land, which now mostly lies between what are now Higashi Ohdori and Nishi Ohdori, areas now known as Tennodai, Amakubo, Azuma, Takezono, Namiki, etc., where eventually the University of Tsukuba and all the various national research institutes were built, was a deep pine forest, inhabited very sparsely and mostly by Kaitaku-Jin (settlers), a code-word meaning  the former outcast class, who lived without electricity even after WWII. There was also, as you can imagine, plenty of small game.

Since  I have been fighting to preserve what is left of this area's natural heritage, it now came to me that I should also consider why this area had for so long ESCAPED DEVELOPMENT.

One explanation is clear, simple and surprising. It was provided to me by Prof. Kuroda of Ibaraki University and later confirmed by other sources. The land upon which the original science city was built lacked the water resources necessary for rice cultivation (ironically as I write this there is a tremendous rain gushing down!). Though there had been villages at the outskirts of the forest since ancient times, these were all in the lowlands and or along small rivers, where irrigation was possible. The area at the foot of Mt Tsukuba with its abundance of pure spring water also supported many rice producing villages. Gakuen Toshi (the Science City) was built on what was called the Seibu-Daichi (the Western Highland). Since there is not sufficient river water and annual precipitation is less than the national average in the Kanto Area, it was only when pump technology, which enabled water to be brought from Lake Kasumigaura, was developed that large scale habitation became possible. Until then it was only the hardy Akamatsu (red pine) forest that thrived.

Though this explanation is clear cut, I still had some questions and my own hypotheses to confirm. Since this part of Kanto is so flat and near the capital, why would there have been so little development in general (not only in central Tsukuba). Ryugasaki and Moriya have also remained undeveloped until recently. It just didn't make sense to me. Other areas around Edo (and later Tokyo) were densely settled and also benefited from Shogunate sponsored engineering projects.

In my opinion, traditional Japanese notions of space strongly contributed to this area's preservation.
According to Japanese Fu Sui （風水）, the study of the relation of the arrangement of things and its effect on human life, the North-Eastern direction (kimon、鬼門) was the most unlucky. Mt Tsukuba lies
directly in the unlucky direction when standing at Edo Castle (now the Imperial Palace). The Shoguns
invested money into Chuzenji-Temple (now Mt Tsukuba Shrine) to protect Edo from bad luck. Ueno,
in Edo's North-East quadrant was also developed as a temple town. Thus the Edo government would not have encouraged settlement in such an unlucky place and would certainly not allot large sums for irrigation projects.

One more point that I believe affected settlement in South Ibaraki is this area's history of violence. Ryugasaki, as I have mentioned before, remains surprisingly undeveloped to this day even though it is located conveniently near Tokyo. I feel this must be connected to the uprising which occurred about
200 years ago as a reaction to the shogunate's demand for more horses and labor to help out the traffic between the post-towns of the old road between Edo and Mito (Ushiku sukego ikki, 牛久助郷一揆, which i will write about in more detail in another entry). In Japanese culture anything or place connected with something unfortunate is avoided (please write in and tell some stories you might have about this).

In fact, many villages which did exist near what is now central Tsukuba were burnt to the ground by the rebel warrior Taira No Masakado, who declared himself the New Emperor in the 10th century and ruled this area as his own kingdom until he was put down by imperial forces sent from Kyoto.

An interesting thing is that even after full scale development got under way around here, some areas have remained untouched. The main reason for this is ARCHAEOLOGY. Before any construction begins, an archaeological survey is always carried out. The excavations which revealed especially interesting artifacts led to postponement of building projects. As these untouched islands of green attracted wildlife refugees fleeing from the destruction of their habitats, there now remain several areas in Tsukuba which are historical and natural treasure-houses. Since electric water pumps and the demise of traditional fusui beliefs have given developers free rein to do as they please, we should do our best to protect what is remaining.

9 Comments

• At August 29, 2008, Dan Waldhoff wrote:

  Aloha,

  We in Tsukuba can be very thankful for the lack of water resources sparing the area from development. A good river this close to Tokyo (風水 not withstanding) might easily have meant factories in stead of research institutes.

  Dan

• At August 30, 2008, Prima Cabina wrote:

  Hi,

  Actuall, the land of current Tsukuba Science City was not "undeveloped" area.

  The red pine forest was artificially formed. The land was not good for cultivation because of geological reason. So in Edo era, the lords of Mito clan had encouraged farmers to plant red pines in this area. The area became a great supplying center of fuelwoods to Edo city (present Tokyo). During the period of WW2, pine oil refined from red pines was using for fuel. After that, because of reduced demand of fuelwoods by the energy revolution, the area had been desolated. That was the timing when the new city plan was established.

  And in my opinion, there is another reason why this area was left behind development. There is Kakioka Magnetic Observatory in Yasato behind Mt. Tsukuba. Since 1913, the geomagnetic and geoelectric observations has continued here. In order to avoid causing effects on longstanding data recording, it is prohibited to operate DC motor trains within 35km from the observatory by a ministerial order. DC motor trains are good for short distance transport and major in urban area. On the other hand, AC motor trains are good for long distance transport and major in country area. In order to operate a train line directly from the center of Tokyo to Tsukuba, the trains must mount an AC-DC dual motor system as now Tsukuba Express line does. It is very costly.

  By the way, did you know Tsukuba Science City is also protected by Fu Sui (Feng Sui) theory as same as Edo? You may have seen 6 blue pillars on Tsuchiura-Gakuen line in Takezono. Actually, there are black pillars on Higashi-odori Ave. near KEK, white pillars on Prefectural Route 123 near JARI, red pillars on Route 408 near FFPRI. The colors mean north(=black), east(=blue), west(=white) and south(=red) in Fu Sui (Feng Sui) theory. According to the theory, a mountain should be located to the north of the city, water shuold be located to the south. Tsukuba Science City has Mt. Tsukuba to the north and Tone River to the south. The city is located in the perfect place from the view of Fu Sui(Feng Sui).

  Thanks!

• At August 30, 2008, Avi wrote:

  Thats VERY interesting! One of my friends has told me that his mother had to make that fuel out of pine tar during the war.

  Please tell me more about the magnetic observatory in Yasato.

  Ive never heard of it.

  I also feel reassured now that know that this city meets all the fusui requirements.

  Thanks a lot!

• At August 30, 2008, Prima Cabina wrote:

  Kakioka Magnetic Observatory is one of the oldest and important magnetic observation stations in the world. Here's their website:

  http://www.kakioka-jma.go.jp/en/index.html

  I have driven once but it was a little hard to find because there are few sign boards and the observatory was very small. Anyway, it is located in the rice field near Kakioka town center in Yasato (now Yasato town was merged with Ishioka city, so it is called Kakioka area in Ishioka city).

• At September 1, 2008, Shaney wrote:

  VERY interesting post and comments! I had never heard of the Kakioka Magnetic Observatory. I knew about the AC/DC problem, but I thought it had something to do with KEK not, this other place in Ishioka. Also, I always wondered about those poles. I love it when TsukuBlog teaches me something about Tsukuba that I have been wondering about for a long time!

• At September 2, 2008, Avi wrote:

  Thanks alot, Prima Cabina. EXTREMELY INTERSTING! And the

  observatory`s building looks beautiful !

  Could you point me towards any source materials which would

  help me learn more about the RED PINE forests?

  First I would like to confirm which clan or authority ordered or recommended their plantation. Second, I would be interested in how , and along what route the wood was transported to Edo.

  Thanks alot for your knowledge!

• At September 3, 2008, Prima Cabina wrote:

  Hi,

  > First I would like to confirm which clan or authority ordered

  > or recommended their plantation.

  It was Mito clan.　I googled it but couldn't find it online.

  If my memory is correct, I saw an article at Ibaraki Prefectual Museum of History in Mito:

  http://www.rekishikan.museum.ibk.ed.jp/

  or at the Science Museum of Map and Survey in Tsukuba:

  http://www.gsi.go.jp/MUSEUM/index.html

  Another source for the history after Edo era is here:

  http://blog.goo.ne.jp/gooogami/e/a23a9e9e6fc0cd0a949482ccca728a3a

  > Second, I would be interested in how , and along what

  > route the wood was transported to Edo.

  During Edo era, the major distribution system was not ground transport but water transport in this area through Kokai river, Tone river, Kasumigaura Lake and Edo river.

  If you want to learn about water transport system in Edo era, there is a museum at the diverging point between Tone river and Edo river:

  http://www.chiba-muse.or.jp/SEKIYADO/English/top.htm

  During Edo era, it was prohibited to built oceangoing crafts because of the national isolation policy, but on the other hand, water transport system by mid-size or small cargo boats were well developed domestically.

• At September 6, 2008, Avi wrote:

  Hi,again! Thanks! Something elsoe interesting in relation to the observatory. Friends told me that in order to avoid interference with that facilities measurements the lights in the cars of the Joban line trains go off between the Fujishiro amd Toride stations! And I thought it was just poor wiring!

• At September 8, 2008, Prima Cabina wrote:

  JR Joban line has AC-DC dual motor system trains. There is a "dead section" between Toride and Fujishiro. They are switching DC to AC at that section. Actually, Tsukuba Express has the same kind of dead section at just north of Moriya, but TX trains have a battery so passengers don't experience turning down of room lights in case of TX. TX has two types of trains. Trains which have number TX-1XXX is DC only which can run between Akihabara and Moriya. Trains which have number TX-2XXX mount AC-DC dual motor system which can run the whole line to Tsukuba. That is why numbers of operations between Akihabara and Moriya are so large but small to Tsukuba. On the other hand, in case of Joso line. they couldn't renovate their train systems so they are still using diesel cars.