Writing Japanophilia

I've recently started making a blog called 'Japanophilia', The idea behind it is to make an accessible resource for people interested in Japan. Also, it has a view to perhaps ending up as something with commercial potential- not so much 'selling out' as making a wide audience possible. Of course, if that lead to other opportunities, that won't be turned down.

The problem is that so much of the subjective, the confused, the exaggerated, exists in my writing. It could be said, so much that is subjective perhaps to the point of esotericism. Is it just me? Who knows? Certainly, I have my own perspective of things, informed by my unique collection of experiences. I want to inform and share, yet I also want to be free to be myself. Here, below is my account of Sawara, which I have still yet to edit to appeal to a wider and commercialised world. I wonder how it will end up, following my best instincts. This is how it looks now, at any rate-

A town that used to be a city, Sawara is as sleepy a backwater as you could hope to see, complete with a canal flanked on either side by gorgeous weeping willow trees, practically drinking the water they hang over. Going there a couple of days ago, free from the weekend or even more extensive festival crowds, was a relaxing but inspiring experience. I've been there before, for the tremendous summer festival- now was a chance to see it's quiet side, along with my friend Elizabeth, author of Chibaraki Life, a blog about things in Chiba and Ibaraki. Each of us ready with camera in hand, we set off for the wild (well, really not so wild!) world of Sawara.

Central to Sawara and it's charm is the canal running through the center of the town and connecting it to the wider world by the Onogawa river. You can ride a boat down this, lined by weeping willows, seeing where merchants used to descend steps to trade produce, on what was once an important trading route on the way to Tokyo.It was a very pleasant and friendly ride; this being a week-day, there weren't so many tourists around, so we could get more attention and time.

 As I often do, I enjoyed getting lost in the microsphere of the 'Tiny Universe'- taking photos of textures on the walls of old houses and finding flowers shooting up amidst ancient ruins. Having so many old structures (Sawara was spared wartime bombing, perhaps because it's unimportance, perhaps for it's heritage), they were everywhere to be found- like the rings on trees, they tell stories of the age and endurance of the town, that has been through so many time periods, but kept it's charm intact. People still come here in droves, not so much to trade, as to reconnect with it's history and deep feeling.

Away from the town center lie various shrines and temples, which all seem to be well kept up, one of the better effects of tourism. I enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of their gardens and their reverence for nature. We made our way to Kanpukuji temple, a quiet and green area that gave us respite from what was proving to be a long walk. We enjoyed the gardens and simple, meditative atmosphere. Temples in Japan are both places of (occasional, most Japanese people don't consider themselves to be religious) worship and the home to whatever monks or priests may be there. This one had the feeling of a large country garden, as well as the ambiance of the various prayers that have been uttered here over the centuries.

We made our way to a Suwa Shrine, past a statue of the man (Tadataka Ino, who looked like a samuri with all his swords), credited with mapping the whole of Hokkaido, simply by pacing the distances by foot, the first person to ever do so. Whilst I think there must be more to the story than that, no doubt he achieved some great feats, especially considering the perilously unstable nature of Japan at the time. A man was waiting there to  share the history with passing visitors.

Walking up the steep steps, we could see it as a storehouse of memories for the community, of deeds done long ago. with boat propellers and anchors lying amongst the grounds.

After a while it was time for lunch. Near the canal are a variety of shops and restaurants, surprisingly quite a few based around sushi. The one we went to had a very friendly man, keen to tell us about the town and to share the secrets of good food. He gave us some special Japanese green tea, which tasted fresh and invigorating,. Apparently the tea and rice all comes from nearby Narita, which is a famous agricultural area alongside having of course Japan's main airport. Farmers have strong movements to keep the character of the place intact, refusing to sell land in some cases when there are calls to expand the airport. In a way, this illustrate's a central feature of Japanese life- the urge to modernise and the call to maintain traditions. Generally they exist side-by-side, seemingly out of conflict in harmonious Japan, , but every so often people feel the need to draw lines in the grass. Certainly, I am glad to see Narita keep it's culture and the sushi was excellent, aesthetic and delicious at once.

Just outside the town, a short taxi-ride away, lies Katori Jingu, a shrine in the Shinto tradition, the designation Jingu referring to it's connections with the Imperial family and grandure. Unlike a lot of places in Japan, it is very much a living place of spirituality, with ritualised, rhythmic dances performed for the gods to see. We actually saw two- one by kindergarden students chanting in a hypnotic, rythmic fashion that seemed to make all of time slow down to it's rythmn. Then there was a second, silent one inside the shrine itself by the miko-san, or shrine maidens, (these days, usually university students doing a low-stress part-time job). Out of politeness we didn't watch it too closely, but I could sense the slow, swaying rythmns of that ancient culture, the subtle, understated actions that belie passionate emotions, astheticised to the point of scerentity. With all that was happening and the stillness of it, the shrine has a very quiet, regal atmosphere, softened and made more serene by the presence of so many tall trees. like you can find at that more-accessible of Jingu, Harajuku's Meiji-Jingu.

Naturally, any association with Japan's Emperors are controversial for many and the issue of this often comes up with the subject, for Japanese people as much as foreigners, many of whom refuse to even set foot in 'Jingu' for this very reason. From my point of view though, though, it should be remembered that with the post-war turnaround Japan made to being a pacifist society, shrines are much less linked to Japan's former empire these days (with the exception of the infamous 'museum' of WW2 in Yasukuni Jinja, that is). National pride as a member of the family of nations, as seems to be being cultivated in Japan these days, may even be a good thing. At any rate, we can safely make a distinction between the 'State Shinto' that revolved around nationalism and 'folk Shinto', that deifies and stands in awe of the forces of nature. Like many other Westerners who feel their own culture has been robbed of a sense of the magical, the mysterious, even the sacred in nature, such places now appear as an invaluable resource. The trees are quite literally revered as sacred, propped up with supports and treated with bandages to ensure they live for centuries- rocks are wrapped around with prayer flags. All of this is a recognition of the divine force flowing through all things, which is so visible in these great trees.

In a sense I'm neither for or against religion- what matters more is what it is used for; either trying to control people, or helping them to rediscover their true and better nature, the power that animates the universe itself.  I was in awe of the massive tree standing there in Katori Jinja, draped in prayer flags, radiating energy all around it.

We were lucky enough to see a dance by some elementary school girls. With a steady rhythm, they paced out a chant-like song that had a hypnotic melody, going on for quite a while. After that, some of the Miko-San (shrine maidens) did their own dance inside the shrine itself. You could just about see them from outside and it had a similar haunting beauty, more like a trance or a ritual  than a dance in the usual sense. If it is a form of communication with 'the gods' and the gods reside in the subconscious, then I suppose this is appropriate. For me the melodies are very soothing and inspiring, with a delicacy that is hard to find in a rushed, modern world. To be around all this was fascinating and it certainly brought the place to life, a life that in one way or another has gone on for so many centuries; and if the birth-dates ascribed to many shrines are to believed, millennia even.

After visiting the shrine, along with it's small museum of relics and gifts from all over the world (my favourite of these being the cartoonesque Phoenix-head ship prow from an old ship, that reminded me of the character from Osamu Tesuka's classic manga), we had a hot cup of macha and snacks in a small cafe, amongst a row of small restaurants and souvenir shops lining the route to the great Tori, the gate marking entrance in into the shrine grounds. The sun was setting and another full day was coming to a close. (By the way, you can se some more photos from the day at this Flickr Gallery)