Tea for Twelve

Tea is quintessentially British. Fell down? Have a brew. Feeling poorly or have a cold? Brew. Been dumped? Brew. Got people round? Brew. The cup of tea is literally the go to for any situation you may come across. There hasn’t been a moment in my very Northern life that hasn’t been made better by having a good brew. Tea is also quintessentially Japanese. Koucha and Ocha, AKA black tea and green are probably the most popular and easiest to come across especially when the choice of green tea is larger than the choice of chocolate. Tea here is a way of life

Making a cup of tea in the UK is a routine. Mug, kettle, teabag (or leaves and a strainer if you’re that way inclined.) Making a cup of tea in Japan is an art. A performance that been taught for hundreds of years. The art of the Tea Ceremony is a  bewitching experience and one that, as a foreigner, can come with a hefty(ish) pricetag; that is unless you happen to stumble across a group of Buddhists outside Osaka castle who take you back to their temple and give you one for free. Women in beautiful kimonos take extremely precise and measured movements in order to create the perfect cup of green tea. Every twist of the shoulders and every flick of the wrist is a pre-determined gesture leaving nothing to chance. The kimonos, as well as being beautiful to look at, double as a uniform, the secrets pockets tucked in the breast provide holding spaces for fans and handkerchiefs. Under the pressure of an audience and a history of other women doing the exact same sign of movements, they show no sign of stress, a completely unflappable performance.

After you watch the demonstration, you get a chance to make your own cup. Closely watched by the eagle-eyed mentors you froth your tea to the perfect level of solidity and stir to the correct amount in the correct direction. Despite how easy they make it look, it’s actually quite difficult, not a time to mess around the concentration is intense.

Surprisingly or not, a tea ceremony isn’t just about the tea. Just as important as the drink itself is the crockery used to drink it from. Taking in  the craftsmanship of the bowl is a big part of accepting the tea. The drinker must twist the bowl around before taking a sip so they can  honour the aesthetics of the piece and appreciate the time and effort that was spent creating it.

The long list of rules and the importance of routine may seem synonymous with the typical Japanese culture, however it creates a sense of calm. Watching the repetition and the ease of the movements seems to slow down the fast-paced life that’s rushing away on the other side of the walls.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

Peace in the Park

War memorials have an expected and understandable sombre aura around them, the shadows of what they’re honouring hang like veils. Heads are low, voices are quiet and children are kept to heel. Yet the Hiroshima Peace Park is as far removed from the above as possible. Forgiveness and renewal replace the awkward silences. 

The A-Bomb dome stands, half stone half structure and guarded by fencing, just by the entrance of the park. Its main job, to slow passers-by down just enough that they take the time to read the mass of information, history and facts provided. Folders in all different languages are ready for the curious and they all end with the same heart-breaking letter.

The history of ‘that day’ is written onto statues, more specifically a row of square, metal archs which line the bottom of the park. The word, peace, is artfully carved into every visible surface, over and over again in over 50 different languages. From English to Afrikans to Hebrew, the plea for peace is thundering.

And as you walk through them, tracing the steps of the thousands of people who came before you, you do so quietly and slowly, trying to read every last word. Even though your brain doesn’t understand the words your body understands the meaning. 

What’s is maybe the most surprising are the colours; the reds, blues, oranges and greens. Bright colours, articial and natural, liven the paths and the monuments, and the river that flows through brings calm and tranquility. In particular, the 1000 paper crane memorial, a group of 6-feet glass boxes, is filled with hand-folded origami cranes of all colours and prints, donated by the children and parents from around Hiroshima. They surround a bell, suspended by a statue of two primary school aged children. A beautiful and incredibly colourful display that makes it unable to feel sad.

Hiroshima’s desire for rebirth is evident in the festivals, carnivals and flowers shows it holds for the communities and tourists alike. Competing dance troups and 30ft high flower floats, live music and craft stalls. It’s difficult not to enjoy a trip to the Peace park and as much as you think you shouldn’t, it isn’t a place for sadness and regret it’s a place for reflection and love. 

Of course what happened there will never be forgotten and nor should it be.  The impacts of the bombs, the emotions of the victims and their families can still be felt but the people of Hiroshima should be applauded for their humility and grace and their refusal to let it define their future.

Angry Bambi and Too Many Crackers

The Japanese have an uncanny knack for making the undesirable desirable; fashions, tweeny pop bands and near-rabid animals to name a few. The typical cute animal is small, fluffy, usually white and docile enough to fit inside a seasonal costume but Japan have found a way to make a few hundred wild deers into loveable real-life bambis.

Everyone has heard of Kyoto and all its historical significance but what everyone  hasn’t heard about is Nara, a town about an hour from Kyoto where deers rule the roads. Huge signs line the streets, paths, duel carriageways and bypasses highlighting the likely possibility of a stray deer holding up traffic. It’s a far(ish) walk from the station but bear with it because it’s definitely worth it. Make sure you don’t fall for the first pools of over-fed, under-exercised, lethargic deer you come across though , they’re reserved for the eager children and tired salarymen dads.

That is until you weave your way through the masses and find your way to the holy grail that is the Todaiji Shrine. A huge orphanage for scraggily deers, it sits surrounded by a  park that stretches for miles. And Bambi and the rest of his crew have free reign. A Daibutsu, giant Budda, is enclosed in a hand built, beautiful, black and white, wooden building, the largest wooden building in the world.

Everything in it from the trees in the parks to the little wooden boat drifting on the lake to the deers themselves, are sacred. The deers are treated with more respect than most people give to their parents. The legend goes if you bow to them, they bow back in return of a cracker. Except this legend really is true, whether it really is because they are religious deities or just very clever animals who’ve realised a little nod here and them there gets them more food, they do bow and not just a flick of the neck. It’s a full Japanese bow, a full lowered neck and a bend at the knee.

Like extremely obedient children, they flaunt their way around the park bowing and eating, bowing and eating. If you’re lucky, or unlucky depending on how you feel about wild deers, you’ll get a relatively strong head butt to the back as they peer pressure you into feeding them. Feed one and they flock around you, usually lead by a matted haired, alpha deer.

It’s a surreal feeling being surrounded by animals that were once thought to be the extra-terrestrial messengers of God, especially when they’re begging for food like very terrestrail ill-cared for animals. But don’t despair, if it comes to it you can always throw your crackers in the opposite direction and run. We did…

 

Down the rabbit hole

Islands in Japan, just like vending machines, are 10 to the dozen. Tiny, little islands filled with tiny little people living in tiny little houses, praying in tiny little shrines. Yet sometimes you’ll come across some which are much more exciting. Okunoshima island is the cutest of all, hundreds upon hundreds of rabbits rule the island with iron paws and greedy mouths. Lazing about under the trees and avoiding the very real danger of accidentally roasting in the unrelenting sun.

Apparently when you’re an incredibly cute, fluffy animal, beggers really can be choosers. As important as popcorn at the cinema; every mum, dad, Tom, Dick and Harry carry the obligitary carrot, cabbage and rabbit food. Yet bold as brass, the self entitled rabbits turn their noses up at everything except carefully cut carrot batons. And do you know what’s cuter than happy Japanese children? Disappointed Japanese children. Uneaten trails of lettuce cover the ground as troops of kids, after 10 minutes of dancing unwanted in their faces, move onto the next unsuspecting victim.

And when you finally give in and can handle the rejection no longer, just look up from the ground and you’ll notice that the island is one of the most beautiful you’ll probably ever visit. Palm trees line the beach and trees from the neighbouring islands flood the skyline.

Yet, as with pretty much all of Japan’s baby islands, this one has a pretty dark, brushed over WW2 past. Used as a secret laboratory for poisonous gas, air raid shelters and underground tunnels are still dotted around and eerie hikes lead to hidden ruins and officers’ offices.

Although slightly less sinister since they’ve been adopted as the home of the (non- murderous) cast of Watership Down. Without any predators, leaking poisonous gases tends to do away with humans and animals alike, the rabbits for whatever reason flourished and  their little kingdom became not so little.

Of course in order to get there you have to suffer through the agonisingly long wait for the ferry. Hourly boats of only 100 person capacity, a national holiday, and a nation of rabbits lovers is not a great combination.  

It’s pretty easy to wing trips in Japan but one thing’s for sure, a visit to rabbit island needs for preparation than a 2 day hike; food and drink, necessary, tent optional but recommended….

Meiji Madness

Shrines and Temples in Tokyo are like Tesco Expresses in the UK, on every corner and always busy. And just like Tesco Expresses, everytime you walk past one you feel compelled you go inside for a look around. Even though you know exactly what’s going to be there, the same as what was in the 7 you went in the week before; curious foreigners, a teenage girl selling keyrings and enough wooden structures to rebuild the Amazon

What they say about having too much of a good thing certainly rings true for temples and shrines. The curiousity you feel when you spot your first roadside shrine and the excitment at walking through your first torii gate, an impressive wooden archway at the entrance of the shrine, soon turns somewhat non-chalent. There’s only so much you can take of one thing before the shine starts to wear off, which of course is a shame but just as expected. That is until you find the time to visit the Meiji Shrine. One of the biggest and most popular shrine in Tokyo, it is completely surrounded by its own forest, hidden away from the typical Tokyo traps.

The walk from the first torii gate to the actual shrine gates takes about 10 minutes. Not for nothing though, the trees and windy pathways that disappear into the forest create an almost magical atmosphere which come to a sudden stop when you’re flanked by a wall of sake barrels on one side and a wall of French wine barrels on the other. Donated by France at the turn of the 20th Century to welcome Japan into the ‘modern world.’ Because obviously, only Westerners can declare what is and isn’t civilised and modern.

The courtyard to the shrine is guarded by two very large and very thick wooden doors. You walk through praying you don’t trip up in front of the wardens, in their blue and white uniforms, and the elderly women dressed in beautiful kiminos and wooden sandels. To the left, a wall adorned with beautifully painted kanji characters. Nonsense to us non-reading kanji folk but fascinating to look at nonetheless. A huge tree stands slap bang in the middle with a fence circling around the bottom half of the trunk, wishes, hopes and prayers are written in every language imagineable and hung on the wall.

 

If you’re lucky you’ll catch a glimsp of a bride fashioning a floral kimono and a poor teenage boy walking beside her, his hand aching from holding the parasol above her. Like a royal, she’ll walk throught the yard, parting the crowd and followed by a procession of family and guests. With nowhere else to go you just stand in awe as she saunters by. A drum metres tall is hit and it’s as if the shrine was built to contain sound. The deafening bang reverberates around the courtyard and travels up, through the trees before it finally echoes away into the sky.

Even though it’s a tourist attraction for foreigners and tourists alike, it’s still a working shrine with everyday Tokyoites going about their business, praying, contemplating and escaping the world. Luckily, there are instructions on how you should pray. Throw some coins into the donation box, clap twice, bow twice, make a wish and bow once more. Nothing livens up a tranquil Sunday morning visit to a shrine more, than a group of towering German men taking a break from their stag-do tomfoolery, clapping out of beat with each other and awkwardly nodding their heads.

 

 

 

Bang on the Dragon Drum

What’s the best way to spend a miserable, dreary sunday? On a Japanese island exploring a cave of course. Enoshima is a small island west of Tokyo; when the tide is out you can walk straight over the sea bed from the mainland to the island but just as our luck is, it wasn’t, so along the connecting bridge we walked.

The island sits in the shadow of Mount Fuji (although to be fair pretty much everything in an hour’s distance of Tokyo sits in its shadow). The island itself is just a huge hill, or small mountain however you want to look at it. You walk over the bridge and hike your way up, passing shop after shop selling shells, flip-flops, freeze dried fish and other seaside related items, all under a canopy of low hanging trees. Strangely similar to Blackpool, minus the donkeys and the ability to understand hecklers.

To get to the cave you walk to the highest point of the island (and if you’re not feeling up to it, there is a genuine department store escalator in the open air that you can pay to use) up hundreds of steps, past a giant shrine dedicated to the Money God and a Buddhist temple. And then back down the other side. The view on the way down is spectacular; the fishermen balancing their little chairs on the sea ravaged docks, vibrant gardens growing out of the side of the cliff and a turtle shaped rock.

  

The elevated bridge between the two canyons takes you to the 1st of the 2 Iwaya caves. It starts off huge, the ceiling high above and the walls set far apart. There’s a small stream that still flows out into the ocean with mini statues standing in the midst of the water. However not 50 steps in the ceiling steadily gets lower until you’re bent at a near 90 degrees, making your way through the tunnels like an extra from a missing Willy Wonka scene.

Except for one which is blocked off for safety. Apparently if you followed this particular tunnel to the end, it’d take you out of the cave, under the ocean and out onto Mount Fuji.

The 2nd smaller cave has a dragon monument with a drum at it’s feet, bang the drum and make a wish. If the dragon lights up then your wish will come true.

I have a sneaky feeling that it might not be as mystical as they want us to believe, the blue and yellow LEDs gave it away..