Itadakimasu

Like so many things in Japan, eating a meal is not simply eating a meal.  It is a full sensory experience – pleasing for the eyes, ears, and palate.  Japanese food is not always the most flavorful, there is a definite lack of spices in traditional food, but it is prepared so that the flavors of the ingredients compliment and accentuate the overall taste.  It is as much a feast for the eyes as it is for the stomach.  Food is served like edible pieces of art.  From dinnerware design to intricate combinations of colors in the food itself, even eating at an izakaya is more like a three star restaurant.

Depending on the restaurant or bar, the service and type of food will change.  At izakayas and fancy restaurants, everything comes in courses.  Small dishes you are expected to share.  Unlike America, where everyone orders their own plate, dining in most Japanese restaurants is more family style.  This creates a sense of camaraderie and community among diners.  As does the abundance of alcohol.  It seems a typical Japanese meal is not complete without beer. A fact which makes the lush in me very happy.  And so the hours pass quickly as you eat, drink, and laugh with amazing new friends.  Food and merriment are international languages after all.

On beautiful plate after another arrives and is quickly consumed.  In the end, it is almost like they care more about presentation than taste.  I won’t complain though, as long as I don’t have to wash all the little dishes. 

Dining in Japan is a truly wonderful experience.  It is a balance between cultural nuance and the soul of humanity I came here to find – at once utterly Japanese and completely human.  The food may be different, the attention to presentation beyond compare, but the sound of laughter and friendship could be found at any dining table in any corner of the globe.

Gochiso sama deshita!

Taking time to see the trees in Japan

Katsura Imperial Villa, Kyoto

I am not sure why, but can’t seem to see the forest for the trees has always been my favorite idiom.  It was in an SR71 song, a band I feel was quite underrated.  I remember hearing it and then finding out it was an idiom a little while later.  Maybe it is the imagery of trees that makes me like it.  Maybe it is the message that sometimes you need to look at the bigger picture instead of focusing on the details.  Maybe it is because my personality swings from big picture to detail oriented depending on the day, position of the moon, color of my socks, etc.

But in Japan I think this idiom should be switched around – can’t see the trees for the forest.  Everything in Japan seems to have a simple beauty – clean lines, open space, seemingly effortless elegance through minimalism.  It isn’t till you get closer that you realize how wrong you were.  While a garden may look simple, it is really an intricate design based on years of careful pruning and planning.  Every tree, path, bench, and pond has been meticulously designed to present the perfect view.  The buildings with their open layout and stark building materials hide intricate details just waiting for the discerning eye.  Food is prepared and present with a degree of artistry and an eye for detail Da Vinci and Michelangelo would be proud of.

I think this phenomenon is something uniquely Japanese.  The attention to detail is characteristic of their meticulous nature and well developed sense of aesthetics.  But they are also a modest people who downplay their achievements, effort, and skills, hiding them in the forest of the overall picture.  But if you take the time to get close, to focus in on the trees, you will realize how truly amazing and intricate every aspect of Japanese culture is.  To use another idiom, don’t judge a book by its cover.  In Japan, you will find the wondrous hiding in the details.  Although the forest is breathtaking too.

Discovering the Heart of Japan on the Open Ocean

I have been here over eight months and I feel I am better able to understand modern day Japanese people.  Each day I learn a little more, peel back the lotus petals a little further, to reveal the heart of Japan.  But one experience taught me more in a few short hours than most of my other adventures combined.  If you want to see real Japanese people, take an overnight ferry.

Anata finally had a chance to visit me between the end of one school year and the start of the next.  We planned a whirlwind vacation that would show him some of the best things Japan has to offer.  Our itinerary included temples, shrines, gardens, restaurants, volcanoes, and sakura.  Two weeks of my best of Japan.  We would spend a few days in Kyoto soaking up the culture of the old Capital, a short stint in Osaka to meet my friends, then ride the sakura wave up Kyushu from Kagoshima to Kumamoto.  Every part of the trip turned out to be amazing.  Anata found it easy to understand why I have been so captured by this beautiful country.  But the part that struck both of us as the most Japanese wasn’t even meant to be anything more than a place to rest our head for a night while we were being transported from point A to point B.

When we decided to go to Kyushu, we needed to find a way to get there.  The train was very expensive.  Flying was reasonably priced, but getting to the airport seemed daunting and wasteful.  Instead we opted to take the overnight ferry from Kobe to Miyazaki.  This would kill two birds with one proverbial stone – we could travel and save on a hotel for the night.  We waffled a little deciding which class of accommodation to book.  In the end we went with the lowest because travel wa mecha takai desu yo!

Little did we understand the adventure we were getting ourselves into.  When we stepped onto the boat and were guided to our pallets for the night, we began to second guess our choices.  The third class accommodation was essentially a huge room for about two hundred people.  We would be sleeping on a thin, single futon with only a fleece blanket and a pleather covered foam rectangle for a pillow.  There was no way of partitioning ourselves off from everyone, achieving any sort of privacy, or, I feared, comfort.  I couldn't help thinking this was only mildly above the steerage class on the old ocean liners or the horrid conditions on even earlier ships.  As I unfolded the futon, I was having serious doubts.

Smiling to mask the fear

Home sweet home?

It was at this point we met our neighbors for the evening - a father and his two sons.  The older boy reminded me of some of my fifth grade students.  The younger one... Let's just say I nicknamed him Luffy within a matter of minutes.  He was a four year old ball of energy.  Others were filing in, looking for their own meager accommodations, so we stored our bags in the cubby provided, smiled at our new neighbors, and decided to go exploring.  

The ship, though older and smaller than other cruise ships I have been on, my only frame of reference, was surprisingly well equipped.  There was a sento, a restaurant and dining room, and the fantastic array of vending machines I have come to expect from Japan.  I was especially impressed with the ramen and hot food machines (though getting a hot dog and fries from it seemed a little unsettling).  I had not seen many food vending machines at this point, just bread really, so these were new.  However, I was relieved when Anata opted for the restaurant over the vending machines.

After a filling dinner, we decided to call it a night.  We weren't especially tired, but we didn't really have any other options.  There wasn't a magic show or live music on this ship.  We didn't bring towels so the sento was out too.  Instead we headed back to our futons.  And this is when we realized just what a culturally interesting adventure we were on.

The room was full of people.  We were some of the first passengers on, so we didn’t see everyone arriving.  But despite the large amounts of people, it didn't feel crowded.  Each group had formed their own space within the larger room and were quietly enjoying themselves.  A high school volleyball team stretched out in the top corner of the row next to us.  One boy was already asleep with his arm thrown across his face.  Three others played cards, occasionally raising their voices in triumph or defeat.  Several more were tethered to the power outlet as they stared intently at their various electronic devices, their faces illuminated by blue and white lights.  Families and groups traveling together munched on food they had brought with them.  There were store bought bentos as well as onigiri and other food prepared at home.  It all looked really delicious.  They drank their Asahi and chatted, sitting cross legged or seiza on the floor.  In one corner a TV was on.  It seemed to be a popular drama as many people were intently watching.  Children flitted around the room, moving between adults and groups, playing games and making friends.

Luffy had returned.  There was no sign of his father or big brother.  He rolled around on the futon next to ours.  Then he disappeared for a few minutes only to come running back.  Soon he had endeared himself to an older man with a place near us.  They started laughing and playing.  The ojiichan held Luffy by the arms while the little boy did flips.  Onisan, the older brother, appeared after a while.  He tried to get Luffy into bed.  It worked for about five minutes.  Then Luffy was back up and gone.

As we watched, I realized this was the perfect microcosm of the Japanese mind; the collective society mentality, the ability to create personal space in a public setting, the tolerance and communal approach toward children.  This was Japan in a nutshell.  I had seen these traits and behaviors many times before, been struck by their difference from my own culture, but it was different to see them all going on simultaneously in the same small place.

Eventually the TV was turned off and the cabin lights dimmed.  As amazing as watching the interactions was before bed, sleeping in a room with almost two hundred people, or rather trying to sleep, was far from pleasant.  Between snoring, coughing, and the constant sound of the engine below us, there was very little sleep that night.  Anata and I were up early, feeling exhausted.  Anata more so than I since Luffy somehow confused his leg for a pillow in the night.  I gently pulled Anata’s blanket from Luffy’s tiny hand as the Ojiichan that had been playing with him the previous night smiled knowingly.

I will definitely think twice about taking the overnight ferry again, but I am glad I did.  It was a wonderful illustration of Japanese culture and social structure.  It was something Anata would never have understood without seeing it in this setting.  Still, the lack of sleep got our Kyushu adventure off to a rough start.