Deep in Osaka

Up an elevator in the heart of Japan’s second largest city is a window into the
the streets of 1830s Osaka faithfully recreated inside . . .
While the 21st century remains outside the window, 8 floors down, at the Museum of Housing and Living.
In another part of town…
the crowds await the arrival of the sumo stars.
Sumo has been part of life in Japan for over 1500 years and became part of the ceremonies of the Imperial Court in the 8th century during the Nara Period. The first matches had religious importance and ritual remains an integral part of the sport. The dohyo or sumo ring is treated as a sacred space, women are forbidden from entering. The roof is meant to resemble a Shinto shrine, the four tassels representing the seasons. Here the wrestlers are led out into the dohyo and introduced by the gyoji or referee.
The wresters go through preliminaries. They clap their hands to get the attention of the gods. They throw salt to protect against injury. They slap their bodies and stomp their feet, all in preparation for the bout.
Then it can be over in seconds with an explosive burst of raw energy or the wrestlers may stagger about for a while until one of the wrestlers either touches the ground or is pushed from the ring (sometimes onto spectators seated nearby). After watching it for a while it becomes clear that there is a lot of technique and skill involved, not just massive force from the imposing size of the players. There are no weight classes. As the day progressed, the level of contestants steadily improved. Early in the day, the crowd was sparce and most matches were over in seconds. By the afternoon, the matches became more interesting to watch and by mid-afternoon the sumo stars began to arrive to prepare for the final matches of the day. A number of times it wasn’t clear who won a match. The judges in black kimonos by the side of the dohyo then confer and either decide the winner or order a replay of the match (which we saw only once).

Weirdly Wonderful

Kabuki! Men dressed in elaborate kimonos with extravagant makeup. Musicians playing the shamisen, flutes, drums, and an assortment of other instruments. Singers with a sound like cante flamenco, bending their tone in and out of tune. Extravantly stylized, but exquisitely expressive, acting and mime. Speaking voices modulated to an extreme, so much so that the limits of the human throat seem to be approached. Fable-like story lines. These are the elements of Kabuki and they are strangely compelling when all put together.

So, the four of us ventured into Kyoto to see it live and with good seats. As the time for the performance approached, the atmosphere became more surreal as uniformed young women intoning a warning chant-like against the use of photography or recording devices worked their way up the aisles, as a wood block sounded seemingly at random.

We were able to follow the stories reasonably well thanks to plot synopses in a booklet with the bios of all the actors, including this gentlemen who played a young woman who succeeded in outwitting the hermit so the dragon could be unleashed and the drought brought to an end, or something like that.

Keeping with the theme of a cultural day, we took a taxi to a candy shop where we learned how to make the traditional confections served in the tea ceremony.
We all passed the test, although the shapes Jim made were a little harder to recognize. In our boxes, we were given two candies as models and lumps of materials to try our hand at the art. It took us about an hour to complete the task, while our teacher turns out about 50 per hour that are beautifully finished.

Back in Japan

We’re back in Japan to visit Kyle & Ai.

Since it was a work day for Ai, we headed into Kyoto with Kyle for a tour of the Imperial Palace.

Even though it was a brisk day in Kyoto, we learned there were another 9 1/2 inches of snow back home. It was here in Kyoto that Shogun Tokugawa turned over power to Emperor Meiji in 1868, ending Kyoto’s 1,000 years as the capital of Japan when the Emperor moved his capital to Tokyo.

The main ceremonial building of the palace complex is the Shishinden, where enthronement ceremonies took place. When Emperor Akihito acceded to the throne in 1989, the Imperial thrones were flown by helicopter to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo.

The feet of the Emperor at Kyoto never touched the ground. The Seiryoden was the Emperor’s residence. He would sit on raised tatamis to receive people and retreat to the tent behind when he tired. If he left the building he would be carried.

Of the 1,800 paintings in the Palace, these are a few of the very few that can be seen by the public. They adorn waiting rooms for aristocrats seeking audiences with the Emperor. The lowest order of nobles were assigned to the room decorated with blossomin cherry trees and with red tapes between the tatami mats. The next highest group used the room with cranes and white tapes between the tatamis. The very highest of the nobles waited in the room with white tapes and tigers on the walls. In its adoption by the Japanese, the zodiac retained the tiger even though the only sign of tigers ever having lived in Japan are the fossil remains of prehistoric times. However, the tiger has always been a potent symbol of bravery, dignity and the power to protect.

The Oikeniwa Garden, inside the palace walls, provided a moment of traquil reflection . . .

before returning to the modern city of Kyoto and a bit of shopping and lunch.