Japan Journal 4, August 2014

Today we saw a castle, two Shinto shrines, a Zen and a Buddhist temple.  

Our first stop was Nijo Castle. Past the moat and into the side gate, Masako, our guide, showed us a diorama of samurai warriors. She described how the samurais lived, worked and fought. She told us about Shoguns, Japan’s feared warlords, and how their dynasties began and evolved over time. I was amused to learn that the title Sei-i Taishōgun originally meant “Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force Against the Barbarians.” (I don’t remember if James Clavell mentioned that in his novel “Shogun”, my entertaining, but surely incomplete introduction to feudal Japan.) The Emperor commissioned the Shogun and his army to annihilate the rebels, the barbarians referred to in the title, who lived in the outskirts of Japan. The Shoguns eventually became more powerful than the Emperor.

The samurais were loyal to the Shogun; he was to them above everything, including life itself. They carried the Shogun in a palanquin, wherever he travelled; in this case, over 500 miles from Edo (Tokyo’s old name) to Kyoto. Ieyasu, the most powerful Shogun of all, was a big man. I imagined a situation like this …

Palanquin bearers –

Their knees buckle: weight's one thing;

His wind another.

We entered the castle grounds through a towering gate. I was very impressed by the curved thatched roof. I thought only the English can do thatch roof. I was even more impressed when I learned the roof was not made of reeds or rushes, but of cypress bark laid on top of each other. The roof was at least two-foot thick; Masako said they last for at least 30 years. The pediment of the gate has intricate carvings of plants and birds, particularly cranes, and bears the 16-petal gold chrysanthemum insignia of the imperial family.  

Nijo Castle was the Shogun’s residence when he stayed in Kyoto. It has the famous nightingale floor. Designed to signal the presence of assassins inside the Shogun’s quarters, light pressure on this floor triggered latches that produced chirping sounds of birds. That way, his bodyguards were alerted. I first learned about it from reading Lian Hearn’s novel “Across the Nightingale Floor” many years ago. Imagine my excitement at actually walking on one!

Tiptoe with great care

lest you trigger the latches -

the nightingale floor!

By nightingale's trill

the assassin shall be known -

Death had such sweet sound.

Nijo Castle has a magnificent garden – ancient pine trees, artfully placed rocks, artificial waterfalls, and clear ponds. Trees symbolize flesh, rocks bones, and water blood. The guide told us as beautiful as the garden is viewed outside, it was designed to be viewed from inside the Shogun’s chambers.

The view from inside –

Garden framed by sliding screens.

A pine needle falls.

Water, rocks and trees –

Seen a hundred arrangements,

one girl, many clothes.

Pines in the garden,

what secrets you must have heard!

Did you tell the birds?

Water ebbs and flows,

rocks remain still forever –

Movement and purpose.

Rocks on this garden,

teach me how to do nothing,

stand still, and listen.

Masako gave us an excellent tour of the Shogun’s chambers. The nightingale floor still works and we walked around accompanied, as it were, by the sound of chirping birds. These were noteworthy to me: while the windows bear the same basic frame, each one has a unique and distinctive design; the colors of the ceiling remain vibrant; the paintings on the wall screens depict the four seasons and look so serene; figures of peacocks, cranes and flowers were carved on the pediments, some of which were gilded; each chamber was assigned a different function. The higher the status of the person, the bigger the meeting room. In the grand receiving room, mannequins were positioned to depict ranks and power distance. The ranks proceed in this manner: relatives of the Shoguns first; his loyal samurais next; conquered enemies last. In the Shogun’s bedroom, several women attended to him. They, too, had ranks, partly indicated by eyebrows or more precisely the lack of them. The thinner the eyebrows (or practically none), the higher the status. These women carried daggers in their kimonos. They, too, like the samurai, were ready to die for the Shogun. One last thing: Masako said the concubine system did not start mainly for the pleasure of the Shogun or the Emperor. Its main purpose was to ensure the leaders had male heirs, something having only one wife did not guarantee. (N.B. Cameras are not allowed inside the chambers.)

Paintings on the screen

captured time and the seasons –

Spring stayed in one room.

The empty castle –

Samurai ghosts and rumours

are all that remain.

The Japanese lords were paradoxically sensitive (they wrote poetry and had sophisticated aesthetic sensibilities) and brutal at the same time (they didn’t hesitate to have anyone executed). They had power over the life and death of their soldiers, subjects and servants. Masako told us what it was like to be a helper …

The palace helper,

poor girl, broke an ancient vase –

Dismissed by dying.

From Nijo Castle, we drove to Kitano Tenmangu, our first Shinto shrine. It is one of many shrines dedicated to Sugawara Michizane, a scholar and politician, who was ruined by rivals and was unfairly sent to exile. When he died, many disasters were attributed to his vengeful spirit, so shrines were erected to appease him. Being a scholar, Michizane was associated with Tenjin, the Shinto god of education. Students regularly come to this shrine to pray for good results on their exams.

Shintoism does not have a founder or a doctrine. Shintoists worship nature and animals as well the spirits of dead relatives. Any relative who died became a guardian immediately.

Spirits of trees, mountains

and animals – Gods and Guardians.

Man and nature: One.

 

Respect for nature –

Shintos revere the spirits.

Trees dance, winds whisper.

The tall, red arches are called torii gates. They separate the material from the spiritual world. They are painted red (some have faded to red orange) because the color red supposedly had the power to drive away evil spirits. 

Here stops earthly things,

Inside – Spirituality.

The Gate divides them.

Our last site for the morning was the Kinkakuji or the Golden Pavilion. This Zen Temple was the retirement villa of Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, who lived in the 14^th century. The Pavilion had three floors, the first of which was made of wooden pillars and white plaster walls, typical of Japanese palaces of the period. The second floor was built in the style of samurai residences, with its exterior completely covered in gold leaf. The third and uppermost floor, built in the style of a Chinese Zen Hall, was gilded inside and out, and was capped with a golden phoenix. The Pavilion was built in a vast estate planted with maple trees with tiny leaves, and overlooked a large pond. It struck me as a fairy tale castle, like one of those enchanted places where a fox, disguised as a beautiful woman, lures an unsuspecting man with whom she’s fallen in love.

Cicadas crying

as we entered the Temple –

Peace could not compete.

Koi fish in the pond,

look what we turned them into –

mendicants for food.

Dragonfly hunters,

did you see the big black one?

A feast for koi fish!

Outside the monk’s house in the villa is a Japanese rock garden, the one where sand is neatly combed in circles. The trees around the house are ancient. One particular pine is reportedly more than 600 year old. The place looked quite serene.  

Stillness in the sand,

roiling sea inside the mind –

Reconciliation.

Before we left Kinkakuji, Masako showed us some photos taken inside the Golden Pavilion. The three floors, the make of which I described earlier, were sealed from public view, so we had no idea how they looked like inside. One photo showed the sky reflected on the 3rd floor.

Blue skies on the floor

of the Temple Pavilion –

Lacquer outshines gold!

Masako informed us that the gold covering the 2^nd and 3^rd floors of the Pavilion practically exhausted Japan’s gold supply at that time. She added gold, however, was not the most expensive material in the Pavilion. It was lacquer. (I read a bit of a history and, yes, there were many instances when gold wasn’t the most sought after commodity.)

Some things were priced more:  

Tulips, nutmeg and lacquer –  

heavier than gold. 

Clouds gathered as we boarded the bus. It was so humid, I didn’t mind some rain.

Ramble on dark clouds,

I've been waiting for cold rain –

Be gone foul summer!

Lunch was served at Public House, a cosmopolitan pub. However (and we approved), the food was Japanese – vegetable tempura, tomago, pot chicken and rice. I would really miss these meals. The freshness of the food got into me. We sat with a Filipina and her (probably) Japanese-American husband. She was surprisingly unfriendly; barely smiled, hardly spoke. It was her husband who tried to engage us in a conversation. Oh, well.

We began the afternoon tour with a visit to Todaiji Temple, which was built in the Nara Period (710-794 AD) at the command of Emperor Shomu. Its object of worship is the Vairocana Buddha or “the Buddha that shines throughout the world like the sun.” The Buddha’s statue is made from cast bronze, plated with gold. It towers around 15 meters high; its face alone is about 5.3 meters long. It weighs 500 tons. It was consecrated in 752, but was damaged and replaced several times in the following centuries.

The statue is housed by the Daibutsen or the Great Buddha Hall. It was a sight to behold! In its original state, the Hall was 47 meters high, 51 meters long, and 88 meters wide. Unfortunately, in the course of the civil wars that plagued Japan, the Hall was destroyed by fire in 1180. It was rebuilt in 1195, but burned down again in 1567. Reconstruction did not take place until much, much later and its size was considerably reduced. It is now only 33% of what it used to be, yet still big enough to claim the title “the largest wooden structure in the world.”

We entered Todaiji through the Nandai-mon or the Great South Gate. This Gate was completed in 1203, along with the two gigantic statues of guardian dieties, the Two Ni-o, housed in on its left and right sides. It has a double hip-and-gable roof, supported by 18 cypress pillars that are 21 meters high. Overall, the structure is over 25 meters high.

Deer, deemed as sacred animals in this place, are overly familiar with tourists and freely roam the vicinity.

A deer at Nara –

Friendly as a con artist,

ate the man's ticket.

Binzuru Harada was one of the Buddha’s first and most devout disciples. Unfortunately, he broke his vow of chastity and was forbidden to enter Nirvana. Still kindly and generous, he roamed the earth ministering to and healing the sick. Pilgrims rubbed Harada’s statue, then touched the part of their bodies, which hurt. The act was supposed to alleviate their pain, if not heal it altogether.

Outside Buddha's Hall,

sits Binzuru Harada –

Outcast forever.

The sheer size of the Hall and the statue of the Buddha were overwhelming. When I see structures like these (e.g. the great cathedrals of Europe), I’m reminded of the role religion plays in people’s lives. It’s such a driving force. These structures took years (some took centuries) to build! The people’s faith in their respective gods sustained their focus and energy, and the pouring of resources. How then to preserve these structures? 

You need religion

to build a Buddha that grand –

Tourists to save it.

On consecration day, a revered monk from India came over to paint the Buddha’s eyes.

The monk took up brush

and painted the Buddha's eyes –

Behold, he's alive!

The weight of stillness

hangs on Buddha's metal brows.

Birds poop on his head.

Behind the Buddha, there were two gigantic wooden statues, one of which was standing on top of a fearsome, but crushed dragon-like monster. It had a stern look on its face. I asked what it symbolized.

The guardian had brush

and paper. He monitored

foolish behaviour.

I wished for rain earlier. I deeply regretted it. Be careful what you wish for …

Clear in the morning,

the skies had clouded over –

Rain, you're capricious!

The tour proceeded to Kasuga Taisha, Nara’s most celebrated Shinto shrine. The rain was oppresive, a number of our tour mates decided to stay on the bus, Tatay being one of them. The three of us decided we would not be deterred. 

Kasuga Taisha is famous for the lanterns donated by its worshipers. Hundreds of bronze lanterns can be found hanging from the buildings while as many stone lanterns line its approaches. The lanterns are lit twice a year – first during the Lantern Festivals in early February; and second, during the Bon Festival in mid-August. Bon is the Japanese custom of honoring the spirits of one’s ancestors, akin to our All Souls Day.

There are several other shrines in the woods around Kasuga Taisha, twelve of which are on the path past the main shrine complex and comprise a tour of the twelve lucky gods. Like Todaiji Temple, the shrine is populated by wild deer and jungle crows. (I initially thought they were ravens because of their size; they were unusually huge for crows.)

We encountered non-stop heavy rain during our visit here. Despite umbrellas, we were soaked from head to foot.

Shinto or Buddhist?

The rain is irreligious – 

Deers graze everywhere.

Hundreds of lanterns

to make your wishes come true –

Rains can’t be bothered.

Forests of lanterns,

centuries of well-wishers –

Have gods favored one?

Stone lanterns' response –

Unconditional silence

to offered prayers.

For all our prayers,

evil refuses to leave –

Crows cawing outside.

Lanterns reflected

in puddles after the rain –

A sea of wishes.

Masako led us to the inner court. We had a view of the bronze lanterns, offerings made by samurais. We also saw a thousand-year old cypress tree with a massive burl. But the one that impressed me most was the ancient wisteria.

Six hundred-year old

wisteria in the Temple –

Still blooms in mid-May.

From the phalanx of lanterns to the bus was quite a walk, especially under heavy downpour.

An eerie feeling –

Being watched by a black bird

perched on a red gate.

Huge crow looking down -

Indifferent to tourists,

shakes off summer rain.

Even the big deer

could have used an umbrella –

Such heavy downpour.

We passed by a souvenir shop, not so much to buy stuff but to use its clean toilets. I was soaking wet. It was a good thing Jason brought an extra shirt I could change into. I was more concerned about my shoes. I only had a pair; to be sure, they won’t be dry by tomorrow.

Rhodora found something to buy – a door chime. I quite like the sound it makes. We asked the storekeeper what metal it’s made of. She didn’t speak English very well, but managed to say, “F-e.” Iron. She knew her chemistry.

Like a chirping bird

in summer, hopping gaily –

The red metal chime.

Rain continued on our way home. I took the chance to ask Masako about Japanese literature – best haiku books, novels (classic and contemporary), history books and travel guides. I was surprised she hasn’t heard of Pico Iyer’s “The Lady and The Monk”; it was supposed to be a definitive guide about Kyoto. Well, maybe not for the Japanese. Masako gave me a list of books, which I hope to secure.

I’ve actually read a number of Japanese novels (Kawabata’s, Mishima’s, and Soseki’s) and fairy tales (from Ozaki’s wonderful collection). I like Neil Gaiman’s retelling of “The Dreamhunters”, which I recounted to Rhodora on the bus. Seems to me, they have a common strain.

Japanese stories -

filled with beauty and sadness.

Love and death entwined.

The bus dropped us off at the New Miyako Hotel, which was almost across Kyoto Station. Instead of heading straight to our hotel, we decided to walk to the Avanti Department Store, where Masako said there’s a good bookstore. I wanted to get the books she recommended. On our way to Avanti, we noticed the birds were louder than the passing cars and buses.

Sheltered by maples,

birds trilled loudly in the rain –

Wringing wet we walked.

We had dinner at the Kyoto Wakuden, which was highly recommended by our guide and the hotel staff. Its coveted seats offered a panoramic view of the Kyoto mountains and the nearby Kyoto Tower. Unfortunately (and not surprisingly) all the seats were taken and we had to settle for a table. We didn’t really mind.

What can I say? The food was excellent! For appetizers, we had soup (charcoal-grilled cutlass fish with green chili and eggplant) and scallop with vegetables. Warm green tea was served, followed by tempura of young sweet fish flavored with a leaf bud. Cold sake was introduced after. (Jason didn’t like anything alcoholic, but we encouraged him to take a sip. He did. He didn’t like it, but he was taken by the tiny bamboo cup on which it was served, so much so we bought the cup so he can keep it as a souvenir.) Our side dish was soba, and for the main course, we had pike eel cooked in a small pot, flavored with “yuzu”, a Japanese citrus. The whole thing was so tasty, we asked for double helpings of boiled rice. Rhodora and I asked for one last cup of tea.

When we later did our Top 3 Things about Japan, food came out on top. Temples and castle were 2^nd and 3^rd. Strange as it may sound, I do think I’ll miss the food here.

Sweet smile on her lips,

sake inside his belly –

Possibilities.

Japan Journal 3, August 2014

We spent our free morning at Shibuya. We took the train, which came on time; it was fast and efficient. We didn’t have an agenda; we just wanted to give Jason a feel of busy Tokyo. We went to the famous crossing, Tokyo’s equivalent of the Times Square in New York or the Piccadilly Circus in London. No surprise to me, we ended up shopping, mainly at Uniqlo and Under Armour.

We went back to Shinagawa before lunch. Rhodora and Tatay secured seats for us at the Miyako Restaurant while Jason and I picked up our luggage at the Prince Hotel. For the record, Miyako was the only lousy restaurant we dined in during the entire trip. Everywhere else was superb.   

      

At 2:05PM, our bullet train, the famous shinkansen, arrived; it left Shinagawa at 2:07. As promised. We arrived at Kyoto, two hours and 15 minutes later. As promised. Gotta love Japan’s efficiency. We’re a hundred years away in Manila. (It is the 50^th Anniversary of the bullet train. Rhodora and I are never big trip planners, but luck has always been on our side. We’ve been in many places where, as it happened, some anniversary or another was being celebrated, i.e. Bastille Day, the Hunchback of Notre Dame’s 170^th year, Don Giovanni’s 200^th anniversary premiere in Prague, Mozart’s 250^th birth anniversary, Hans Christian Andersen’s 200^th birthday, etc.)

Rice fields and forests –

Fleeting view from train window.

Calls up nostalgia.

The Kyoto station was biggest, grandest train station I’ve ever seen! And I thought the renovated King’s Cross Station in London was something. (I had similar feelings when I visited the Forbidden City in Beijing. I was screaming to myself, “Louis XIV, you think you knew opulence? Well, you didn’t!” If Europeans and Americans travelled to Asia more, they’d suffer less from egomania.) It’s not only a train station; it’s an entire hotel and mall complex. It has an 11-storey Isetann mall, a host of department stores, and a fast food center. Our lodging, Hotel Granvia Kyoto, was right here. It was really cool.

How lucky can we get? Our room is 888. By Chinese and Japanese numerology, we couldn’t have asked for a better number. Almost as soon as we’ve put down our luggage, we explored the Station, starting with Isetann. We went all the way up to the Sky Garden, amazed at the concert stadium just below the view deck. We kept saying, “Wow, unbelievable.” We went down, floor by floor, to get a feel of what they sell. Then we headed to the Portal, a basement mall and fast food center. Rhodora stopped by Muji and did some quick shopping. For dinner, we ate at the Japanese Bowl Cafe. The line was long, but the food was good. On the way out, we posed for pictures with the Kyoto Tower on the background.

Finest silk I've touched,

this must be how Royals feel –

Kimonos for sale.

It must be a practice here. Two or three women sales clerks alternately walk around their merchandise to greet passersby. I presumed they were inviting everyone to take a look and buy. Nobody paid attention, except perhaps, for Tatay and myself, who observed the same thing in Shibuya this morning. The act was quite mechanical, almost robotic. It must be tiresome for these women to walk back and forth and flash their friendly, albeit, wasted smiles.

We saw a few women wearing kimonos. Tatay asked what’s up with the pillows on their backs. I looked it up: they’re not pillows; they’re pads meant to maintain the form of the decorative ribbons tied on their backs. I quite enjoy seeing “locals” wear their national costumes. Too bad we didn’t have the chance to watch a Noh play or a kabuki dance drama. I read the costumes are elaborate. I’m reminded of an Indian friend who invited us to a dance recital of his daughter. She had years of training and was brilliant that evening and, oh, her costume was grand! She filled the whole stage. After the show, we all lined up to congratulate her. I was so surprised at how petite she was.

Girl in a costume -

How imposing when dancing!

How tiny when still!

Read about our tour in a castle, two shrines, and two temples in my Japan Journal 4.

Japan Journal 2, August 2014

I must have fallen asleep looking at the Tokyo Tower by our window. Morning arrived sooner than I wanted. The city was fully lit at 5:30AM.

Darkness left in haste.

Fierce light tore through our curtains –

Morning in Tokyo.

Our first tour was a bus trip to see Mt. Fuji, 75 miles to the west of Tokyo. The bus was full and made many stops, but once we entered the Tomei expressway (Japan’s longest highway, almost 800 km; it literally means “Tokyo to nowhere”), everything was smooth sailing. The highway had concrete fences and curved glass overhangs. Our guide, Hashimoto, said the fences and overhangs limit pollution, both noise and carbon emissions, from spreading to the environment.

After an hour, we had a pit stop. We entered a grocery store and bought snacks and fresh cucumber (on a stick – the crunchiest, sweetest we’ve had!) and sweet corn (nothing like Japanese sweet corn). I was quite impressed with the grapes on display; they were just a tad bit smaller than plums. Jason got himself a bottle of Calpis, a popular Japanese drink that tasted like Yakult, but he didn’t like it that much. The stop took all of 20 minutes.

I had haiku in my head before we saw Mt. Fuji …

Snow-capped mountaintop –

Seen you only in posters.

Grateful for today.

Then we had a “sneak preview” of Mt. Fuji on the road. Everyone thought aloud. There is no snow??? The snow on Mt. Fuji, we learned, is there only in winter – not all year round!!! It’s not that it was any less majestic, but we’ve been conditioned for years to see it with snow, so it was disappointing. My disposition changed.

No snow at the top,

“Only in winter,” guide says –

False advertising.

The bus took us to Station 5, about halfway up to Mt. Fuji, and the closest we could get to the peak without hiking. Mt. Fuji, an active volcano, is 3776 meters high. It is covered with evergreens, beeches, birches and oaks about ¾’s of its “body.” Close to its peak, however, only mosses and shrubs grow. We had a great view of the peak from Station 5, but we couldn’t see anything below. Thick clouds encircled the mountain. We took a short walk; the ground had a crunchy, breaking-glass-sound of volcanic rocks. We met three Filipino groups – a family from the US, a group of female friends, also from the US, and a family from Cebu.

Clouds, creamy and thick,

ring Mt. Fuji by its neck –

Heaven must be near.

A carpet of cloud

bears Mt. Fuji upon it –

Viewers float along.

On the way back, Hashimoto told us the trees we see on both sides of the road are cherries. Come April, the flowers are in full bloom. Cherry blossom showers came to mind.

Stately cherry trees

line the road to Mt. Fuji –

I’m dreaming of Spring.

Road to Mt. Fuji,

covered with cherry blossoms –

Wait, it’s not April.

We didn’t stay long at Mt. Fuji. We only had 30 minutes. The traffic earlier cost us the extra 30 minutes we could have used idling around. It was fine with us; we had no plans of hiking, anyway. Jason mused about going back with Jesse and Juliene, and the three of them climbing to the peak. (He figured Rhodora and I would be weak and feeble by then, and wouldn’t be able to make the climb – even if we wanted to. Boy of little faith, that one. Cue Darth Vader’s musical theme.) Jason didn’t believe Hashimoto when the guide said it would take six hours to get to the top. It didn’t seem that far from where we were, nor did the climb seem difficult. But what do we know? There were lots of local hikers, obviously groups of young friends. We thought they were overdressed and over equipped. We wondered if they allow camping at the top.

The Japanese run like clockwork, which I think is both good and not so good. Hashimoto ushered us to the bus soon enough. Tatay and the two Pakistanis in our group complained our stay was too brief.

Prisoners of Time –

so generously given,

so quickly taken. 

We rode to beautifully wooded Hakone, passing an allegedly haunted old building that is now a popular restaurant (oddly enough with a windmill on top) and a white Buddhist Temple. We went through a long tunnel and stopped by the homey Hakone Lake Resort for lunch.

Nestled among trees,

a quiet house stands alone.

Come dusk fog hides it.

Lunch was simple – miso soup, fresh vegetables, rice and chicken – but it was tasty. I like Italian and Chinese, but I’m beginning to like Japanese as much.

Hakone is proud of their handcrafted puzzle boxes. Decorated with intricate mosaics, it could take as much as 21 hidden locks to open! We found some at the Resort Shop.

Her box has secrets –

How do I tease it open?

My charm is useless.

The Resort and the forest surrounding it reminded me of John Kaizan Neptune and the shakuhachi, the Japanese bamboo flute. I imagined him sitting on a rock in the garden and playing Japanese melodies.

The shakuhachi -

the mountain wind's haunting call,

the soul's strangled cry.

 

We were supposed to go take the Sky Gondolas next, but we rushed instead to board a faux pirate ship for a cruise to Ashi, a scenic lake surrounded by hills dense with thick evergreens. This Lake has a 19 km circumference; it was formed about 3,000 years ago in Hakone Volcano's caldera. We walked to the deck excitedly. Then the fog descended …

Cruising Lake Ashi –

Lush forests covered by mist,

didn't see a thing!

We “jumped ship” on the first stop and boarded the bus quickly so we can catch the Sky Gondolas. It’s a pity we didn’t get the chance to see the little town where the pier was. It looked quaint, very European, I thought. (It reminded me of areas around the lakes of Salzburg, Austria. It looked like New Zealand to Jason.)

We got to the Gondolas all right, but the fog hounded us all the way to the top.

Cable car floating

on clouds three thousand feet high –

The wind was whistling.

The experience reminded me of Jason’s remarks when we were on board a cable car in Singapore, in 2001. He was only three years old. He was standing by the window, looking out, talking to himself.

The leaves rustle,

the branches creak.

It is a windy day.

The Sky Gondola took us to Owakudani Valley, the remains of the exploded mouth of Hakone’s Kamiyama Volcano. We were supposed to see steam spouting from the ground, but the fog was unbelievably heavy. We couldn’t see anything. Suddenly the air turned cold and windy. Then rain started falling. Our only recourse was to roam around the souvenir shop, which was not an unwelcome thing for Rhodora and Jason. (Jesse and Juliene would have similarly approved if they were with us.) We saw more Hakone boxes and fine Japanese lacquerware. We also had the chance to try Hakone’s famous “black eggs”, which are eggs boiled in the steam vents of the volcano. Hashimoto said, “If you eat one, your life would be extended by seven years. If you eat two, it will be extended by 14 years. If you eat three, you’ll have a stomachache.”

The mist hangs heavy,

one can't see beyond five feet -

Station disappears.

Japanese lacquer -

Affectionate attention

lavished on boxes.

We took the long bus ride to go back to Prince Hotel. We had the option of taking the bullet train at the Odawara Station (I smiled to myself when we alighted at Odawara and walked around for a few minutes. This was the station used by the Master in Yasunari Kawabata’s novel, “The Master of Go.” Cheap literary thrill.) We could have cut our trip by over an hour, but we weren’t really in a hurry. The bus has been paid for; no need to pay extra for the train ride (over US$100). By staying on the bus, we had the chance to see the streets of Shibuya and Shinjuku at night. They were bigger wards than Shinagawa, and certainly much busier. The shops and offices, the lights and the billboards were all there. We arrived at Prince Hotel close to 10PM.

For dinner, we looked for a Yoshinoya outlet. Hashimoto spoke highly of the franchise, so we thought we’d give it “another” try. We loathe the one at Glorietta in Makati; the food was bad. We found an outlet – a busy one – right behind Shinagawa Station. We ordered takeaways and ate in our rooms. I’m pleased to report: we’re NOT disappointed. It was the Yoshinoya we once knew and enjoyed. Our biggest Yoshinoya fan is Juliene; we sent her a message that Yoshinoya is still alive.

Read about our experience at the Kyoto Airport in my Japan Journal 3. 

Japan Journal 1, August 2014

I thought I’d miss this trip. I was down with flu four days before our departure. As if on cue, my fever broke on the last night, and I felt a bit better in the morning. I was glad the airport wasn’t so busy and we secured good seats on the plane. The stewardess was looking for someone who would be fine sitting by the emergency door. Rhodora volunteered me. She thought I’d welcome the extra leg space. I did. I didn’t have any seatmates. Lucky me. I promptly fell asleep.

(N.B. For this journal, I thought I’d hazard the attempt of sharing my observations and impressions in haikus. Amateur haikus, that is.)

Flying to Japan –

peaceful and quiet, like nights

without rain and flu.

Tatay, my 84-year old father-in-law, joined us on this trip. Tatay was a nautical engineer in his 20’s. He plied the Pacific waters back and forth for over 10 years. He said this trip to Japan must be his 50^th, although his last visit was in 1961. This was the first trip of Jason, who is 15 years old. Forget their age difference, they shared the same enthusiasm to explore and discover.

Jason’s first visit,

Tatay says his 50th –

Both want window seats.

Jason was instantly impressed with Japan, given what he saw at Narita Airport, the highway, and the buildings we passed on the way to Shinagawa, Tokyo, where we stayed. He liked it that the walls going to the immigration area were generally bare, except for a few displays about Japanese roof tiles, lacquerware, and painted screens. There were no billboard displays on the highway, no outlandishly designed buildings, nothing that’s garish-looking. The streets looked spotless. “Reminds me of Singapore,” he said. He also appreciated the colors, noting “they came from the same palette.”

Nothing overdone –

the lines, color and design.

Less is truly more.

We checked in at the Prince Hotel. In 2010, Rhodora took Jesse and Juliene on a “girls-only-trip” to Tokyo. Jason and I stayed in Singapore. Interestingly enough, they, too, stayed at the Prince Hotel.

After settling down, we went up to the hotel’s Japanese specialty restaurants. They have a restaurant exclusively for sushi, teppanyaki, tempura, ramen and shabu shabu. We chose shabu shabu. What a feast we had! Everything was fresh and the slices of kobe beef was the most tender we’ve ever had. There were thin white slices of what looked liked radish or turnip, but when dipped in boiling water instantly turned into glutinous rice cake. It tasted like our “palitaw”, minus the sugar and coconut bits. Like everything served that evening, it was simply delicious.

Filled to the brim, we thought we’d better take a walk before turning in for the night.

Welcome walk at night –  

Shinagawa’s busy street,

summer’s slow exit.

May gods forgive us!

We mistook a Shinto shrine

for a restaurant.

Read about our adventure in Mount Fuji and Lake Ashi in my Japan Journal 2. 

Yangon Journal 10, July 2014 - Love & Death (Last Entry)

Whenever I get the chance, I gather the folktales of the countries we visit. The soul of the place is usually preserved in the stories the locals pass on to their children. I found out that Myanmar is not only rich in gold & gems, but in stories, too. Our family posed before one of its most popular tales, that of the Kinnara & Kinnari, archetype lovers in Buddhist and Hindu mythologies. They are winged spirits, flying from one place to another like birds or butterflies, perpetually playing and chasing each other. In the Mahabharata, they describe themselves this way:

"We are everlasting lovers and beloved. We never separate. We are eternally husband and wife ... ever-embracing."

Like the Philippines, Myanmar suffered horribly during the Japanese Occupation. To commemorate the sacrifice of the brave soldiers, the country established a War Memorial some 80 km outside Yangon. The place was grand, solemn and serene, a lot like our American Cemetery and Libingan ng mga Bayani, except instead of crosses, they have small epitaphs. My grandfather & uncle from my mother side were both soldiers. They, too, died fighting the Japanese. My grandfather was buried at Libingan; my uncle was unaccounted for. Coming here reminded me of war's cruelty and insensibility ... We found this hibiscus growing near one of the gravestones.