I woke the next morning to what I thought was the sound of a man crying out in pain. Groggy eyed I stumbled into the living room and found my hostess already awake, deciding what to make everyone for breakfast.
"Crows," she explained. "Whatever you do, don't stare at them in the eye. They aren't like the birds in Canada, they're vicious here."
So dangerous, apparently, that if you kill one and take it to a police station, you are given a cash reward. I looked into the trees and finally spotted the creature, a giant beast of a bird. One of those could tear apart a silly farm scare crow.
Ochezuke
Breakfast would be ochazuke, which I guess is the Japanese version of morning cereal. Green Tea and dashi (a type of soup stock) is poured over rice and sprinkled with edible kelp. Apparently in Kyoto, if you are offered this dish, it means you have overstayed your welcome. Good thing we were in Tokyo! I now have instant ochazuke in my pantry, freeze-dried toppings, with broth and green tea. All you need is rice and hot water.
I ate sitting on the floor, holding the bowl in my hand, watching television. This morning's passing amusement would be skipping channels to catch all the commercials. Though many were ordinary, some of them were out right ridiculous. Dancing families in daisy dresses, strange cartoons, and some that I couldn't make any sense of. I found a couple of clips that give you an idea of what it was like:
After our quick meal, we headed to the subway, this day's adventure was a trip to Meiji Shrine. We walked up Omotesando, a famous shopping district with names like Vercace, Bulgari and Armani lining the streets. I was devastated to see only western names I was familiar with, no famed Japanese designers here. This was a street where tourists could go, and feel as though they were home.
We walked up the street in the blistering heat, feeling already drenched in sweat, and stopped for a cold Italian soda. Once the beautiful 175 acres of trees donated from all over Japan came into view, my step quickened in anticipation. Giant cypress gates with copper detailing opened to a wide gravel path, swelling with cool shade.
Sake Barrels
Passed rivers, and towering trees, and a little ginger garden, we saw a giant wall of sake barrels displayed along the path. These barrels line alleys behind restaurants, wrapped up in plastic bags, ready for disposal. Astounding that they can be so visually appealing and yet meant only for transport and garbage heaps. At home, if it's industrial and meant for disposal, it's safe to assume there will be no artistic presentation.
Mutsuhito ruled as emperor during the era of "enlightened rule", or "Meiji". The 122nd emperor of Japan is credited for brining the nation to the world stage, through political, social, and industrial revolution. Impressive for a man who took the throne at only 14. Other accounts I read suggest he was powerless, only a Japanese symbol of aristocracy during an age of industrial revolution. Whatever the truth might be, the Japanese refer to the lives of Emperor Meiji and his wife as "illustrious".
Towards the front we saw the beautiful wooden gate that would open to the shrine. To our right, a delicate little wooden structure with protecting a fountain. It was meant for cleansing before entering the shrine. There we used the cups to pour over our hands, taking some into our mouth and spitting it into the stone lined ditch at its foot meant for taking the used water.
For many rituals water plays an important role. Its life giving properties have always been recognized and symbolically powerful from human's first divine considerations. The Christians baptize children and new followers with it. Catholics often dip their fingers into a bowl of holy water, blessing themselves upon entering a church. The pagans have ritual baths, meant to cleanse the body and soul before spiritual work. Here, we were to clean our hands and mouth before stepping on sacred ground. I was familiar with water ceremonies from my own traditions, and was quite pleased to have this as part of my experience. It solidified the reality that we entered a place where spiritual process was expected to occur.
The gates opening onto the main yard.
Entering the main yard, Priests and maidens walk by wearing traditional dress in preparation for a wedding at the Meiji Shrine.
Traditional wedding procession through Meiji Shrine.
Through the gates we entered the main yard where Priests and Maidens in traditional clothing lead a wedding procession through the broad open space. The bride wore a white kimono and large white headpiece that covered what I'm sure was an elaborate hairstyle. From what I could find online, it is meant to "hide her horns of jealousy" from her mother-in-law. The bride's expressionless face was delicate under powdered white. Walking at her side was the groom in a black kimono, and behind her a procession of family members and friends - almost all dressed in black. They walked slowly, faces somber and immovable. Before them were guards preventing anyone from crossing the path of the procession until they had cleared the entire open yard.
Once they wedding party passed, we walked over to the central sanctuary, the sacred space where the Emperor is enshrined. Coins were tossed into the wooden trough-like containers, and with two claps of the hand a prayer or wish could be made. My prayer was for the preservation of my way of life, and those who walk a similar path.
Central Sanctuary
To the side were boxes containing scrolls. With a donation, one could take a poem written by the Meiji Emperor or Empress. Between the two of them, they wrote nearly 100,000. I couldn't resist:
"Should you but resolve to climb
That Peak Towering to the heavens,
You will find there is a pathway
To its very summit"
Emperor Meiji
How true.
Walking over the courtyard again we stopped to write a prayer on a wooden plaque. These could be purcased from a stand, manned by polite maidens who sat with their eyes cast down until you wanted to purchase a charm or tablet. The monks used these tablets as offerings and to construct their own prayers during ceremonies.
The tables were filled with foreigners and locals, filling out their wishes, hopes, needs, sorrows. I walked around the hundreds of tablets, seeing prayers written in every language imaginable. Some written by children, some by couples in love, some by families.
Once ready to leave the shrine, we walked out along the same long gravel path and stopped at the little cafeteria just outside the main gate. There I bought myself an iced tea and sat down at a shaded table outside. With my first sip, my nose wrinkled in displeasure - like so many places in the states, it was unsweetened.
Disappointed I went back to the counter, looking only for a napkin. Instead, I found tiny packets of syrup sugar and even smaller packets of lemon juice. It seems, the Japanese never miss a beat. I sweetened my tea to perfection and added some lemon, enjoying a perfect iced tea in the unbearable humidity.
As we passed the cafe to make our way towards the subway, I saw a wall with a Japanese note hanging on it. "Please do not urinate on wall," a passer kindly translated at my request.
