Big in Japan...
...at least with the ravens!
(This is an artfully curated transcript of my podcast episode. Click here to listen FREE)
Show Intro
Thanks for listening to Curious Cat, a podcast that examines the shadowy space where science and the supernatural collide. I'm your host, Jennifer Hotes. Join me every week as I explore what it means to be a soul in a meat soul. Welcome to Curious Cat.
Episode Intro
I'm just off the heels of a phenomenal trip to Japan. It was precious time, two weeks with the whole family. And though I did not pack my podcaster hat, I couldn't help but immerse myself in the country, the culture, and seek out off-the-beaten-trail-places where ancient history is alive and well right beside mega-modern skyscrapers. I’d like to share some of my favorite stories and moments with you, and will do a deep dive into the clay figurines I saw first hand at the Tokyo National Museum that are fixtures on History Channel's Ancient Aliens, next week. The dogu figures and their possible connection to an ancient spiritual creature from Japan deserve a full episode.
Let's get into it! Stories from Japan 2024!
General comments about the gift of travel
We travel for a myriad of reasons, to reconnect with people; to stretch past our comfort zones, to expand, or shift, our perspectives; and to, at least for a brief moment, suspend the bellybutton-close vision we have of reality. Yes! There’s value to zooming out on that miopic point of view.
My recent trip did just that.
Six thousand miles by plane, Japan is a country that spent most of its history isolated from the western world. Tokyo is a city that is as large as New York City and London combined, which is hard to wrap my mind around.
Japanese culture is calcitrant in its manners, formalities, customs, and timeliness. Yes, even in the throes of modern times when everyone is plugged into social media; Japanese culture remains intact. Though I did catch a few moments, slips by a few people that seemed to want this steadfast culture to change. They were subtle glimpses from the youth that amounted to tiny acts of rebellion; anarchy in a sense, but in order to spot them my vision had to become microscopic. And part of my vision came from being confronted by an officer at a baseball game.
But more on that later.
Japan is a country of contrasts.
This is a land of ancient spirits, where the supernatural coexists with the ultra-modern. The pace of life can slow to a mindful meditation beneath the gates of a century-old shrine, then quicken to hyper-speed as one reclines in a seat on a bullet train. Japan cherishes the old as much as the new, if not more.
When I say the supernatural coexists with the ultra modern; I captured it in a photo I took from the hotel window just hours before boarding the plane back to the states. I’d meant to capture the reflection of Hie Shrine on the glass facade of a skyscraper, and did.
This is Tokyo.
I went on four separate train lines to reach the outer limits of the city and within steps of the modest train station I was immersed in the most moving, unusual, spooky ravine I've ever encountered. As I stood on the bridge above the dark cut of water, I was shaded by a massive stand of bamboo and maple trees that were older than the United States. I watched the water from above, scared of the height, but drawn to the movement of what looked from 75 feet up to be the slithering of a great black dragon in its depths. It slithered along in the gentle current.
Temples, shrines, memorials, execution site, graves, all of them and more are preserved to mark history; the fallen warriors, the priests, the prayers, the places where Japan used to be ruled, knots of trees and hydrangea covered stones marked, savored, preserved, just steps away from skyscrapers and train tracks.
Yes. Tokyo is a city of contrasts. It's a fragile ecosystem. To keep it working in smooth rhythm, millions of citizens have to abide by the social norms and constraints, while also, sometimes artfully, avoiding conflict. Conflict is to be avoided at all costs.
And often, the price paid is to look away as an injustice happens so as not to stir the pot. I saw this twice on the trip, and it made my inner American bristle. But, Japan, with a perspective that spans millenia, not minutes, there's the sense that just will be served, just not in our human time.
I hope the stories I collected help you fall in love with Japan. I'm not talking about the rose-colored, first love kind; but a deeper affection, like tracing the scar on a decades' held lover, coaxing the story out of them again about how the mark came to be.
On with the stories!
Japan, I've described to others since my first visit there almost a decade ago, takes something damn good and makes it the best. And yes, that's my Nacho Libre, Jack Black impression you just heard. He sometimes jumps out when I get excited.
Here are a few of our favorite things that Japan has taken to the next level.
7-11, McDonalds, French bakeries, including crepes, trains (of course) taxis, theme parks (Tokyo Sea) and diet staples like flour and milk. Why can't we have nice things?
Why? That was what we were left thinking after every impromptu visit to the 7-11 in the basement level of our hotel.
Okay, I know. You're thinking of midnight snack runs, Slurpee machines, questionable pre-packed food in the refrigerated area that you take a gamble on when you are hungry enough. That's Murica's 7-11.
Here's what you will find in Tokyo minimart-scape. Oh! and besides 7-11, which they sometimes curiously have identified as 7 i Holdings, there are also Lawson's and Family Mart which I'm told by reliable sources are equally as fantastic.
I spent a fair amount of yen at 7-11 so I'm a qualified expert. It's a tiny, slip of a store. From the automatic doors you can take in the entire store. It is well-lit, not overly so, illuminated in a way that makes inspecting products easy. There are conveniences tucked into the corners like an ATM, a copy/fax machine, a phone charging station for rent, and a row of carefully curated beauty and health products. From tiny nail polish in a modest spectrum that manages to be flattering for all skin tones, the colors are modern but not garish. Face masks. Deodorant spray for my stinky Air Force Ones, cooling spray, perfumes in darling bottles that smell like they were crafted in kasks by olfactory witches, there's a rack of magazines and puzzle books, there's a smattering of bitty toys for the child in you, or your life, but then, there's the food.
Refrigerated shelves hold sandwiches, bowls, wraps, desserts, and more. But the sandwiches were the star in our family. Perfect white bread, crusts removed, embrace either a perfect proportion of spread, like egg salad or tuna, or hold a crisp leaf of lettuce and slice of savory ham. They are packaged in threes and my favorite was the variety pack; one tuna, one egg, and one ham. All of them neat, yummy, cold, fresh and delicious. They made for an ideal lunch and cost all of what? Two dollars? There were even lovely fruit sandwiches; peach slices on cream cheese that melted in the mouth.
The candy variety was all exceptional. The assortment on the shelves was curated by someone who knows (and loves!) snacks. None had artificial this or that, which is all we have in the US on the candy shelves. Some of the Japanese sweets had probiotics, to aid gut health. And behind the sweets? An open freezer stocked with goodies. My favorite was the vanilla ice cream wrapped in buttery soft vanilla mochi.
The beverages, too, were a site! A modest, but again, artfully curated variety of caffeinated and non-caffeinated drinks.
When that hand basket was full and it was time to pay, there was a simple, fast-moving line. The cashier would bag those treasures as you used the coolest cash machine ever to pay. You pushed a button for a cash or card transaction, and then, wow. This machine undid years of childhood anxiety I'd held about paying in coins with dollar-bill wielding adults breathing down my neck. These machines? You dumped in your coins and they were totaled in seconds! If you needed paper yen, there was a slot for that. It returned your change in the same efficient manner. I miss those machines.
The prices? Well, it hurts to tell you that a lunch of a three pack of sandwiches, an iced coffee, a half-container of Pringles, and a mochi ice cream dessert? It totaled about five bucks.
That was 7-11. I dream of that store. Before we left for home, I went to Bic Camera and in their toy section, found a tiny model of a Japanese 7-11 and purchased the only one they had for Nora's Josh, whose birthday is around the corner. I plan to visit that gift and reminisce.
Other things Japan took and made better? McDonalds. If you've traveled abroad, then you know, even if you hate Mickey Ds, that there's a moment on a long trip when you crave something familiar in your belly. And you find yourself in line, cheeks tinged with shame, waiting for a cheeseburger. American boy need cheezeburger! We had a hunch Japan would do McDonalds better. Thirsty and curious, we stopped in. Two peach smoothies and three kid-sized cheeseburgers later, we'd confirmed our hunch. Even this staple of America? It was done to the nth level in Japan. Real fruit, fluffy buns, the beef? We had to wonder if this was some subcategory of wagyu or kobe.
There are French cafes throughout Japan, from bustling Shimbashi and Tokyo Stations, to the street level, that are regular fixtures of the landscape. And, yep you guessed it, they are better done than ones I've visited in Paris. Their pastries? The coffees? The petit fours? My goodness.
We were all left wondering why we can't have nice things, which led to sad discussions about lobbyists and big government and selling out to the Man.
Bad Fortunes at Asakusa's Ancient Temple
Called, Sensoji, there is an ancient temple that lies in the heart of Asakusa where Buddhism and Shintoism have coexisted peacefully for centuries. From Japan Guide dot com, " The legend says that in the year 628, two brothers fished a statue of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, out of the Sumida River, and even though they put the statue back into the river, it always returned to them. Consequently, Sensoji was built nearby for the goddess of Kannon. The temple was completed in 645, making it Tokyo's oldest temple."
Because it was our first adventure, we'd yet to buy train passes. At local, Bic Camera, our second favorite shop in Japan, shadowed only by the 7-11s, we showed our passports and forked over yen, receiving three-day passes, then went to the basement, where we caught a train to Asakusa.
Muggy and warm, though not as humid as our last trip to Japan, we managed the train system just fine. The Joshes - my daughters are both partnered with good humans named Josh - were especially keen to note the Japanese ways on the train, the unspoken etiquette of not speaking on the phone, keeping your belly faced out the windows if you're standing, and the like. We all read the advertisements posted on every flat surface, and soon we emerged at the platform for Asakusa. We followed the flow of people to the street level, and onto the temple gates.
As we pressed toward Sensoji, I had this strange urge to keep track of all six of us on the crowded walk to the temple gates. Strange, because my kids are full-on adults, have been for years. I acknowledged my anxiety and it shrunk like a wool sweater in the dryer. We all branched off in different directions, agreeing to meet in an hour or so. I followed people to the massive incense burner, breathing in the cleansing smoke, exhaling stress residue and then went with some of our party to a large set of wooden drawers. After paying a small coin, I shook a container, then out came a stick with a Japanese number. That number corresponded to a drawer. I opened the drawer and pulled out a fortune.
It was awful. It was something like, you are hiking up a mountain and will continue to hike for days, never reaching the peak. You are on a boat at sea and fall overboard, treading water until you finally drown. You get the gist. Terrible. That's when I noted that three out of four of us had received bad fortunes. Josh's was phenomenal, so great, mega star, massive money, pure joy, blah, blah, blah.
The rest of us held our fortunes like rotting fish, and then we spotted wooden racks. We learned we could fold our bad fortunes into a bow and tie it onto that wood rack to be rid of the bad fortune, its sour luck blown away in the incense-tinged smoke.
We enjoyed the day, following the river to Tokyo Sky Tree. What a wonderful outing. We'd walked 15,000 steps and taken in a mix of old and new.
Tokyo National Museum and the modern reveal of a wishing Buddha sculpture
If you make it to Japan, I have no doubt you, too, will fall in love with the people, the gardens, the spiffy-swift trains, the food, and the pockets of history and lore tucked in every corner of every prefecture.
One place I wish to spend more time if I get the chance to return is Ueno Park. It is steps from the train station and holds museums, acres of lush gardens, temples, art galleries, and a zoo. Think NYC's Central Park, though Tokyo is the size of NYC and London combined.
We went to Ueno Park to visit the Tokyo National Museum and stumbled into a weekend market filled with food and artisans. We took a cursory glance, swearing to linger longer after the museum and lunch.
Tokyo National Museum is filled with national treasured artifacts. The first hall I entered held buddha sculptures, some of which were rare depictions of buddha; seated on a cloud, carved out of wood, gold-dusted. The entire hall held so much energy I ended up having a twenty minute long hot flash. I captured a curious flash of green in a picture, too.
Past that area we found other cool displays. I posted my favorite on Tik Tok. It was an area that revealed the process behind making lacquered boxes, which is laborious and requires a dust-free area to achieve the mirror-like polish of black. But that wasn't the coolest thing. There was a giant television that played a video on a loop.
Scientists had x-rayed ancient objects and here were the results, the inner secrets of those objects, never meant for human eyes, revealed in 3-D.
The one that made the hairs on my arms stand up was the Wishing Buddha. Crafted 1300 years or more ago, it was a sculpture created to grant wishes.
What the x-ray revealed was the intention with which the sculpture was created. Every inch was made to conspire with Buddha and the Universe to grant those wishes. As the sculpture spun, layers were revealed. Where the head was, stood a little door. On the front side of the door floated five tiny Buddhas and in the center of them, sat a vessel, which looked like a tiny clay or stone cup. On the back side of the head, at the back of the door, but beneath it, was a strange clump. Were they fat twigs? I wondered at first. The video closed in and revealed it to be a family of dolls.
All this, never meant for human eyes, and imagine the things that didn't leave physical traces, like the chanting and prayers, as the Wishing Buddha was born?
It was phenomenal and made me wonder what lies hidden inside other ancient objects.
Next, we entered a building of archeological finds. Many came from the Kofun period, the 3rd to 6th century, and were buried beneath family dwellings or in burial tombs. The energy was reverent, whisper-y, hallowed, still, as objects made for the dead sat exposed to the living. The light was soft, but was never meant to touch these sacred objects again. I was keenly aware and took few photos, even though they were allowed. It felt wrong, like taking the last bit of candy from a crystal dish.
This area held the dogu. They are unusual sculptures in a variety of forms. Many, most actually, were broken in half intentionally, and buried beneath the floors of family dwellings. And then I saw the figure I'd seen countless times as I watched Ancient Aliens. A goggle-eyed figure, one leg broken clean off, supported by a block of stone. It did look alien, like a person in a space suit. I looked at the backside, the side they never showed in all those episodes. I took photos and my ghost app came on, words lighting up my phone screen, "Dust, Within, Low." That was it.
These figures are strange, and I found two more examples of the goggled-eyed ones that I'd never seen before and shot photos. Many have speculated on dogu, saying they are fertility symbols, akin to Venus of Willendorf, or ritualistic.
There are many more treasures within the walls of Tokyo National Museum. I hope to return again one day and savor others.
White deer cave of Engakuji, Zen temple in Kamakura
We had a family friend that was in Japan at the same time and planned for a day together in Kamakura, which lies to the south of Tokyo along the coast. We met at Shimbashi station and took the 30-minute train to Kita-Kamakura, because I'd read that it was best to start here and walk your way through the ancient capital as a sort of meditation on the way to the famous Great Buddha.
From Fodor's Travel, Essential Japan, "25 miles southwest of Tokyo, as a religious center, Kamakura presents an extraordinary legacy. Most of its temples and shrines are in settings of remarkable beauty; many are designated National Treasures."
They continue, "For the aristocrats of the Heian-era Japan (from 794-1185), life was defined by the Imperial Court in Kyoto. Who in their right mind would venture elsewhere? In Kyoto there was grace and beauty and poignant affairs of the heart; everything beyond was howling wilderness. By the 12th century two clans - the Tiara (ta-ee-ra) and the Minamoto, both offshoots of the imperial line - had come to dominate the affairs of the court and were at each other's throats in a struggle for supremacy. The rivalry between the two clans became an all-out war, and by 1185 the Minamoto were masters of all Japan. Yoritomo no Minamoto forced the Imperial Court to name him shogun; he was now de facto and de jure the military head of state. The emperor was left as a figurehead in Kyoto, and the little fishing village of Kamakura, a superb natural fortress surrounded on three sides by hills and guarded on the fourth by sea, became -and for 141 years remained - the seat of Japan's first shogunal government.”
“After 1333, when the center of power returned to Kyoto, Kamakura reverted to being a sleepy backwater town on the edge of the sea."
To me, Kamakura is a place of peace, lush gardens, cave tombs, spirituality and wonder.
We had quite the day in Kamakura! I'm not sure our friend Michael knew the walking he was in for, but he was eager to explore. Steps away from the train station was the very first zen buddhist temple and school in the whole of Japan. Enaku-ju Temple is the largest of the Zen monastaries in Kamakura. Founded in 1282 and belonging to the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism, the samurai especially admired this sect with its emphasis on the ascetic life as a path to self-transcendence.
This was a place that many escaped to having been driven out of China. Still a functioning monastic center, it is said to enshrine a tooth of the Gautama Buddha himself.
I found a tiny cave opening on a quiet, overgrown hill and a marker that told the story of the white deer. Upon the completion of the temple, it's said a herd of tiny white deer emerged from this cave opening, they knelt and listened to the first speech given in the completed space. Were these the ghosts of those who died resisting the Mongo invasions in 1274 and 1281? Maybe. What we do know is that 742 years later, the location is still marked, that history preserved.
We continued on the path into Kamakura, in search of lunch and Michael pointed across the street to a tiny place that felt sewn into the fabric of Kamakura. We had such a great meal and ventured through the town, up and over massive hills into a plaza near the train station that teemed with teens in school uniforms. It was delightful.
The great Buddha statue, Daibutsu, was another short train ride away and we made it through the entrance gates a few minutes shy of closing. The massive 120 ton statue was intended for another site, but then the ship carrying him up the coast lost its precious cargo over the side in what some call a storm. Buddha washed up on the shore of Kamakura and the city leaders felt his wishes were made clear. They got busy building a temple around him. And that roof and structure burned down. It was clear the Great Buddha wished to meditate beneath the wide open sky, and so it was.
Wood Dragon Island in Nara
From my journal, "Up early, finished packing for Nara trip, then down to breakfast.
At 9:00am we mustered in the lobby, met the taxi to Tokyo Station. As we got out of the cab, another cab almost hit Doug!
After some sorting, we found our train's gate and bought food for the Shinkasen.
I'm excited for Nara.
Two taxis to JW Marriott in Nara. The property was tidy, brand spanking new and the staff was kind and enthusiastic. After tidying up in the room, we were ready for a walkabout. It was suggested that we turn left out of the hotel and follow the road for ten minutes.
Soon we stood at the foot of the Suzuka Gate, crossing into the ruins of the Imperial Capital when it stood in Nara.
I felt the importance of this site, surrounded by breeze-blown grasses and etched in by stone irrigation canals.
The stone bases of the support columns still exist, and one area is tented with the likeness of a large building printed to size. Inside the building lies teh excavation site where they are unearthing pieces of the past.
The trains signal, then roll past, and time slows in this expansive World Heritage Site.
As we continued to walk the grounds, we admired the surrounding mountains, the trees were filled with talkative birds. I felt a calm echo through my bones.
We were grateful to be in Nara, to be staying overnight so we could take in the city without the bustle of tourists that we be among tomorrow.
The animals on the capital grounds were going about their business, unbothered by us six.
Doug spotted a raccoon in the irrigation canal. The fuzzy creature considered us; we considered him, but then his lip raised in a snarl. It was clear that we were too close to his home. We moved away and watched him, he rose to standing and watched us.
Joining the other world again, we walked through a grocery store, finding at one end the most wonderful pet adoption center. They played music from the Puppy Bowl, and inside large spaces were puppies playing. They each had little beds and play equipment as well as water. It was lovely.
There was one gorgeous cat that reminded me of Romeo, but brown. She slept with a smile on her face. I miss Romeo.
Thursday, May 23rd, Nara.
Slept well and after breakfast we shuttled to the Nara Deer Park. We fed MANY dear MANY rice crackers.
I don't think I've given you enough background on Nara, so from Fodor's Travel, Essential Japan, quote (JH - read marked bit!)
Back to our journey, some deer bowed politely and took the crackers gently. While others nipped at our butts and shirts.
Bryn's Josh made a point of feeding the skinny deer and the babies. We walked further up the hill and into a shaded forest. The path was lined with deer. A raven watched us, seeming to follow along on our journey. He was noble and beautiful.
Then something weird happened that could’ve gone very badly very fast. As Bryn and Josh walked ahead of me; unbeknownst to them, a bedraggled woman and man, white but badly sunburned from sleeping outside, followed them.
The bedraggled couple looked as the though they were down on their luck, in need of a lucky break. Without a word, the man signaled to the woman to get behind Bryn and yank her coin purse from her small backpack.
At first, the woman shook her head no, then the man pushed further. When something seemed eminent, I stepped between them and my kids and said NO! I told them to leave them alone.
They were surprised, mostly because my superpower is being invisible; so they'd not noticed me. They took off running in the other direction.
Next, we went to a botanical garden, set within a magical primordial forest. Bryn and I borrowed fans from the ticket office and all of us meandered the paths through flowers, budding foliage, ponds with turtles, and koi; then rounded the bend to find an island which was off limits for all.
I read the sign and learned that a massive tree had been knocked over in a windstorm decades ago.
The tree survived and continued to grow in spite of the jarring event and to many, looked like a wooden dragon. And I have to mention that this year, 2024, is the year of the dragon, specifically the wood dragon. That island came to be a sacred and revered place in Nara, an honored landmark. What a joy it was to behold. Because of the dragon's powers, visitors are not allowed on the island.
After taking a water break at the base of the gardens, we went deeper into the protected primordial forest. We found a temple, the temple of five dragons, which meandered through the trees.
I remembered the stones that my friend Monique sent to me for the trip and we offered some here and there along the path. I'd offered one the noble raven earlier, and had left others in Tokyo.
The temple of five dragons is known for bringing luck and prosperity to couples. The grounds were stunning and we felt far removed from the touring crowds. What a blessing.
Red temple gates. Green trees. Deep ravine. Quiet. Solitude. We saw deer, great elders in the heard lying in silent observation from lookouts in the forest. They watched us with curious eyes.
It was magical. The experience made me wonder what happened to these precious and sacred dear as they aged, then were ready to die, exiting from Earth for high realms. The thought made me cry.
Eventually the path emptied into a neighborhood and we were back to flesh and bone humans again.
A Solo Adventure to Todoroki Valley, Tokyo, in search of burial mounds
Nara was the midpoint of our trip, and when we returned to Tokyo, we had gained a confidence about navigating the city. The timing was perfect. Each of us would break off and explore different facets of the city, sharing our experiences over dinner.
One day, I found I had time to myself to explore. I knew what I wanted to do, but it was a complicated four train field trip. Part of me wanted to go a safer route, take one train to Ginza to shop for gifts for friends back home, but then I reread a section of Secret Tokyo and found not one, but three destinations in the same area. I knew I had to go.
I took a screenshot of the directions and then boarded my first train. I needed to step outside of my comfort zone.
The final train took me to the outer limits of Tokyo, the southwest corner, where I hoped to track down burial mounds. One was a rare keyhole shaped burial mound, which is only one percent of all known burial mounds. I was going to a potentially spooky place in the far reaches by myself. Not able to get an Uber or Lyft or even walk back to the hotel, I was in it.
As I left the tiny train station, I checked Google maps, which glitched. I took a right, then Google glitched again. I walked a straight street past small shops, the owners sweeping their front entrances. They bowed and waved, as did I, and they did the same as I reversed course and passed again. They did the same as I went past two more times. Finally, I understood the grid of the town a bit more, and ventured to the first mound site, 2-12 Kaminoge.
I reread the guidebook as I walked through what I was learning was an affluent neighborhood. It seemed like every driveway had a Tesla.
The guidebook entry read, it is a strange little round green hill behind a barrier that may well interest curious visitors. Far from being a natural hill, it is the site of a keyhole tomb. Over 15 centuries old, Kaminoge-Inarizuka tumulus yielded several artifacts when it was excavated in 1995 and 2009, including necklaces, which dated the mount to the end of the 4th century.
Google said turn right, which I did, following a footpath that led between four houses, two on each side. Was I venturing into someone's backyard? I checked the directions again, then a few steps ahead I noticed a metal fence. Past that was a grassy hill. There was the tumulus.
I backtracked and went around the block looking for a better, more obvious place to access the mound. Soon I found it. A narrow pathway marked by a konji-laden obelisk, a sure sign I was at the right locale. I took a photo of a brief interpretive sign, and noted the red, locked metal gate. I could see the mound only slightly better, but it was something to behold a burial mound in the middle of an affluent neighborhood preserved for over 16 centuries.
I took out the pages I'd ripped from the guidebook and read about the next site, "Some 500 meters away in Tamagawa-nogemachi Park between the baseball pitch and tennis courts, this time resembling a circular pyramid, is the much more imposing No-ge-Otsuka tumulus which was probably the tomb of a high-ranking warlord of the mid-5th century. Excavations in the late 19th century revealed thousands of objects." If you wish to see those objects, I've linked to an online exhibit of them.
Reading about a burial mound existing next to a baseball field is one thing, seeing a stepped pyramid that is sixteen centuries old beside an outfield fence is quite another. It was breathtaking. I cannot read Japanese, so I assumed the signs said to ‘Keep Out!’
I circled the pyramid, taking in the rectangular stone formation that made this a rare keyhole mound, and then I saw steps up. I followed them up up up to the top of a flattened pyramid. There I saw at my feet porcelain printed with to scale drawings of what was found here. There were four burials total here, stone coffins made to look like bamboo, and it was agreed this was the place of a great man. I read in a blog later, quote
"Someone very powerful (like a “big chief”) who ruled the wide area from Southern Tokyo to Yokohama is sleeping inside. Who, exactly? Nobody knows at this moment."
I was overwhelmed with emotions. Checking that no one was around, I sobbed. A ravine swooped past me, brushing my bracelet. I wiped my face and watched the great bird. He then landed on a massive tree on the west side of the mound. I told him thank you for letting me come to this place, that I would always carry a piece of it with me.
The tree he sat in seemed familiar, but the trunk belied my logical brain. It was thicker than ten feet across. I'd look at the photos I took later and find, to my pure shock, that it was a yew bush that had grown this wide and towered some fifty feet in the air, planted centuries ago.
I returned to solid ground, and felt weary and sad. I sat on a bench in the shade and absorbed the emotions that had bubbled up for the dead buried ages ago. Then I looked at the map and found the last place I had intended to visit, a buddhist temple where you forfeited your camera or phone, then went down to a cave, guiding yourself through the pitch dark to the other side, using only the smooth walls and your hands to make it back to the light.
It was a train stop past where I was. And my soul battery felt drained.
I decided to walk to the train station and determine on the platform whether to go on or return to the hotel. It was a fifteen minute walk, the heat and humidity flushing my cheeks and frizzing my hair. Right outside the tiny station was a shaded bridge. I gravitated there and found myself standing on a bridge high above a ravine, a flow of black waters 75 feet below. I felt a moment of vertigo and swore I saw a dragon, lithe and quick, meander through the middle of the waters. I rubbed my eyes and just had to know what this magical place was.
Across the narrow street was an interpretive sign which was a Todoroki Valley Area Guide. A government designated place of scenic beauty, there was a walking path that paralleled the ravine, but the entrance was closed due to recent rainfall. There was such power to this place, I felt equal pulls to ignore the signage and walk the trail, and leave as fast as possible. I can't quite explain it. The tug and pull and revulsion.
I stood above the ravine again, taking in the massive bamboo and building high Japanese maples, then went to the train station, riding the rails home.
I found out later, when I dug deeper into the valley's history, that there is a tunnel tomb along the path, a temple, and a waterfall. That drains along the ravine are sculpted to look like dragon heads.
I will return here, and I promise to do the blind cave meditation that day as well. Once I was back in my hotel room, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I pushed past my comfort zone, pushed past anxiety and had a really great, very interesting experience that I won't forget.
Anarchy at Tokyo Dome, baseball game - maybe it's time to go home
Our trip to Japan wasn't all temples and train rides, though. I got in trouble with the authorities, too. And in retrospect, it was the perfect way to spend our last night in the country.
It speaks to the fragile nature of millions of people living in such close quarters, a societal structure that relies on compliance, consideration and abiding by the rules in order to remain not only functioning, but peaceful.
And to think I almost shattered the calm with a flashlight.
One of the only days the Giants baseball team was playing a home game at Tokyo Dome happened to be our last night in Japan. Seeing baseball in Japan is a MUST DO. We'd done it the last time we were in town, so again, I booked tickets. After getting a bite to eat at a food wagon outside the stadium, we navigated our way to our gate, then seats.
We were in the nosebleeds of the outfield, squarely behind centerfield. We'd only missed about half of an inning, when we took our seats and the game was still 0-0. A couple that seemed to be on a first date sat in front of us. The entire outfield section of fans made watching baseball a cardio workout. Chants, complicated hand clapping, singing to people up to bat, they never stopped with their coordinated cheers. It put American baseball fans to shame. I haven't seen this level in the states, with the exception being a tight game in the playoffs or World Series. It was impressive.
Between innings was also a spectacle. People dressed in elaborate sushi costumes raced to a finish line. Home and away cheerleaders did fancy dances. Drums. It was a blur.
A group of young teens a few rows ahead of us had these hollow little baseball bats and clacked them to the clapping routines and Bryn thought the bats were cute.
Doug picked up on that and did what he does with people he loves, left his seat in search of the bats. He returned with a flashlight that looked like a bat, not finding the other, and Bryn switched on the light and cheered along. Round Two of looking paid off because Doug had found the little bats. Bryn took them and let me use the flashlight to cheer. Not five minutes later an officer of the law bent over me saying something terse in Japanese. I was confused. He pointed to the flashlight and I cheerfully said we bought it at a pro shop, then pointed. He frowned and the first-date-couple in front of me turned around. He wants you to turn it off. It is distracting the other team.
Embarrassed, I pushed every button, cycling through the myriad of colors, face breaking out in sweat, the cycle of colors never ended. I tried pushing on the black base and nothing. Finally the couple took the flashlight and pushed buttons, cycling through the colors YET AGAIN. Nora said, try pushing both buttons at the same time! Which I said louder still to the young man, and he did. And the light went dark. And the entire section of fans breathed a sigh of relief. I'd brought shame to my section, it was palpable.
I sat, head hanging like Eeyore and sopped sweat from my face for at least another 15 miserable minutes.
Then Bryn said, in a tone meant only for me, "What the hell? Who sells a souvenir that you aren't allowed to use?"
I shook my head and laughed.
THIS was the perfect way to head back to the states.
If you plan a visit to Japan, and you should, it is a phenomenal place, pick up a Japanese etiquette book, would you? We did and read it as a refresher course.
Here are just a few of the rules.
Don't hand someone money ever. Set it down if they don't provide a tray.
Don't eat or drink as you stand or walk. Definitely don't consume anything on a train, the exception being the bullet trains.
Don't leave food on your plate.
Don't expect trash cans anywhere. Like hikes, pack out what you pack in.
Don't be loud on the train. Don't let your phone make noises. Don't talk on the phone, either.
Don't stare. Don't say anything if someone is sitting in a disabled area but they aren't and someone gets on the train that is. Confrontation is rude.
If you have tattoos, keep them covered. They have bad associations in Japan, even though they ironically invented tattoing, and even have a museum.
And don't use your baseball pro shop purchased flashlight at the same game unless they turn off all of the lights and it is in between innings.
To be in Japan is to overthink all the time when you are out in public. It can be exhausting. We tried our best to abide by the rules, but there were some that I've never read in a tour book that seem true, too, to the keen eye. Like not wearing anything with personality - or god forbid words - out and about.
As the ballgame headed into extra innings, I asked if others, like me, were ready to go. We all were. We left and rode home in mostly silence.
I miss Japan. I promise to return. But I'm also savoring not worrying about this that and the other when I am out of the house.
I mentioned earlier what Japan does better than us. But, I came home and saw that we've got nachos down pat - I'd been served a version of nachos at Disney's Tokyo Sea theme park that were Bugles with liquid cheese on top. Americans know how to do nachos, well, all Mexican food for that matter.
And popcorn. God. We do popcorn well.
It's an awkward dance in America of cultures, backgrounds, stories and chips on our shoulders. We are indeed a great big melting pot and I've never appreciated that more than in the days after we landed on US soil again. We have massive diversity, of mind, body and soul. It is wondrous and why we lead the world in innovation. All these different points of view coalesce into bright new ideas. Yes, it's more work to count everybody in, listen to voices both loud and quiet, but the fruits of those efforts are what live at the core of the US.
We can share our thoughts, our opinions and listen to those of others. We can talk openly about racism and sexism, hell! all the isms, as well as speak straight about mental health and suicide and domestic abuse and the shameful parts of our country’s history. You name it, and we are able to have conversations about it...which I'll never take for granted again.
I miss Japan. I love the people . They are eager and willing to help if you can't find your way to a train or 7-11.
But I love the people of the US, too.
Traveling's ultimate souvenir is to give us that wide-lens-viewpoint, but then a crisp new take on our old, tired, habitual ways.
Show Close:
Thank you for listening to Curious Cat! Have you heard the good news? Thanks to YOU our show is in the Top Twenty Supernatural podcasts. Hooray. Until next time, stay curious. I love you!
Sources and Materials:
If you wish to see the objects found in the burial mound I climbed click here
Great blog post about the place I went on my solo adventure - Todoroki Valley