Well, as my last night in Tokyo starts winding down... and my eyelids start their ceremonious evening drooping- I figure it's a pretty good time to start getting Japan on 'paper' before it has slipped through my fingers.
I arrived in this magical paradise four nights ago. It was not the most auspicious of beginnings in a country- although with me, it never really seems to be.
This leg of the journey is one I'm undertaking well and truly solo. Brooke has headed home. Her journey was complete enough. And ever since the decision was made it has seemed very right to me that I should explore this place alone. For so many years Japan has been the 'place of my dreams' that land of wonder that I let my mind scurry off to during moments when I needed to escape, or to be moved, or to be inspired. How long I have dreamed of this! And here I am... already five days into it and with only 15 to go!!
So, Brooke and I arrived in Tokyo airport, bleary eyed and weary from our epic commute from Toulouse in France to our destination. Here came the farewell, and I managed to balls it all up through my terrible aversion to goodbyes. After months of sharing pretty much everything two people can share (apart from their bodies!) our parting came down to an awkward and clumsy slurring of words and pretty much a pat on the back... oh dear. If she weren't my friend, I'd be worried about the impression I made!
Anyway, I ran away from Brooke and hustled onto the train. And then the fiasco began. I had booked my hostel and had the directions all written out nice and safe in my trusty little notebook. I followed the directions from the Japan Rail lady, changing trains a good three times until I arrived at the station I assumed was the one I needed. But no, it wasn't. I have a Japan Rail pass, so I can catch any Japan Rail line for free. But I'll be darned if all the lines are JR! Ofcourse they aren't! No, Japan has about seven hundred and fifty million train lines... and the station I needed was not on a JR line. So... first I wandered about aimlessly like a sheep that had lost its herd- with my ridiculous bag hanging off my back like a freaking corpse. I stared at the maps with my eyes glazed so thick I may as well have had them closed. I tried to figure out if I could walk the distance between wherever the heck I was and where I needed to be... but I didn't even know where I was, and I sure couldn't read the signs! The key factor here is that I had failed to get any money out, and so I couldn't actually but the ticket to get to the station I needed.
Then it was an Indiana Jones style quest for cash. I walked around for what felt like a lifetime looking for an ATM, and when I finally stumbled on one- glowing on the horizon like a mystical mirage of salvation- it rejected my card.
So, then came the desperate attempts to communicate with people when I had bothered to learn a big fat zero of their language. I pulled out my bank card, repeated "yen" over and over and shrugged a lot. When the woman replied with three fingers and a giant cross made with her arms accompianied by "Three o'clock NO MONEY!" I figured it was a lost cause.
Then the tears came. I choked and spluttered and avoided people's eye contact as I wandered ever more aimlessly trying to think of what I could do. Back down into the subway I went, and with the tears still glistening in my eyes, I sidled up to the conductor, told him the stop I needed, showed him the inside of my empty wallet, and he quickly hustled me through the gate with a makeshift ticket in my hand. What a hero.
And from that moment on, I knew I was home, and I knew I was safe. I walked up the stairs of the station, and staring down at me like a vision from god was my hero- my absolute, honest to god king of all heroes- Takeshi Kitano from the inside of an ad for... I don't know... something Japanese! Boy, any place that has Takeshi Kitano on the subway walls is my kind of place!
So, I was in Japan.
My first day was spent a little hap-dashedly. I didn't have a map, and was still pretty hung over from my jetlag and total lack of recupperation. I just kind of walked around... stopping occassionaly to stare wide eyed at one of the area maps by the side of the road to make sure I wasn't walking up to Hokkaido or something... I stumbled upon Tokyo Tower and up I went in the elevator- fully equipped with a disco-ball-esque light and many uniformed Japanese girls to smile and guide the way. I walked down to Ginza... I was on a mission to locate Kabuki. And I did, and as of that moment, my next day was planned!
My day watching Kabuki Theatre... pretty spectacular! I saw four shows, all of which showcased different kinds of Kabuki- comedy, drama, dance, a love suicide and an introductory sort of actor display...
I have seen some Kabuki before- on screen obviously rather than in flesh- and these renditions didn't make my soul quake and crack like I thought it would based on other experiences. But boy was it still rich! It was so achingly beautiful! The attention to detail, the deep and sombre reverence for tradition, the passion. But the passion isn't that wild passion that spirals out of control like a hurricane. I have found the Japanese to be the most incredibly emotional, deep, profound people. They are so very in touch with their deepest feelings- which has surprised me because I always thought them to be quite repressed. But they are anything but. It is my impression that they have these incredibly rich and textured experiences and feelings... but they also have these incredibly structured and concentrated and controlled manners in which they express this. They have these traditions- these incredibly powerful and all pervading traditions- which are present in society, art, culture, religion... and these traditions spell out how the people express what is in their incredibly open hearts. Some traditions are ancient, and some are modern... but they have their guidelines as to how to behave... and how to express themselves. Or so I have felt!
Anyway, what all this means, is that when you are viewing some art or culture like Kabuki, what you get is this incredibly concentrated bullet of power and emotion. These people take everything that is inside of them, and channel it into this medium which has been perfected within an inch of its life and it just explodes on the stage in this unbelievable, magical performance. It is so gutteral, so visceral, and everyone in that hall understands it. It is so human and so instinctual... yet so taloured and controlled and rigid.
Japan sometimes feels like a living, breathing contradiction... but I think that actually it is just to dense for me to really understand what is going on!
I loved it!
I had my little english earpeice diligently translating not only the words the actors were saying, but also these ancient stage symbols and conventions like a purple headband indicating an ill character, and what really astounded and inspired me about that, was that everyone watching knew that. They are so in touch with tradition and their history and past. In one play, a character was pretending to be a samurai, and the fact that he was not legitimate was communicated to the audience by the fact that he forgot to remove one of his swords before he sat down... seriously... how could they know that!
Anyway, the love and pain and rage and fear that I saw exploding off the stage yesterday blew me away... and I really felt like they meant every tonal-rollercoaster of it, from the depths of their hearts.
Then, after a pretty rich cultural experience of traditional Japanese theatre, it was off to meet Traish and sleaze the night away in a maid cafe! Traish has been on a Rotary exchange here in Japan since January, and she goes home this coming January. I have missed her like my left foot, and it was so special to see her here. Pretty amazing too, to just, you know, meet up with your friend from back in the Blue Mountains in Tokyo...
Her host family had brought her to Tokyo for the weekend, and we were allowed a few hours together! So she took me to a maid cafe. We went up the lift to the fourth floor- dedicated to this distinctly Japanese establishment. Decked out entirely in bright pink- the tables shaped like hearts- Japanese girls with their hair in high-topped pig tails wearing the shortest and frilliest maid outfits imaginable greet you with more enthusiasm than you would think possible in their tiny little frames. They do magic tricks for you as you order, they sing songs and dance on the pink heart-shaped stage. It is quite a spectacle. I was assured by Traish that the men who visit these cafes get a great deal sleazier than our companions, and I don't doubt it!
It was a pretty incredible experience. One I could only ever have in Japan, that is for sure!
I set out the next day to try and see Fuji-san- that epic mountain which has inspired so many. I went to a town in the five lakes district and started to climb a little mountain in the hope of getting a decent view. The moment I stepped up into the leaves and trees and fresh air, I was hit like a mallet my this incredible sensation of "Holy christ... I'm here". I was just so moved and so relieved and so deeply happy that I was here, in this amazing, beautiful, incredible place... and I may have cried a little... and as I walked up that mountain, I could see where myths and legends of forest spirits and tree gods had come from. It really felt alive, those woods. I felt as though I was walking amongst a living, breathing entity. I could feel it tingling along my skin, sometimes it felt like it was laughing or snickering... teasing me a little. When I did finally get to the top... Fuji was hiding from me. I guess even when you are worshipped and revered you can still have self-esteem issues! So I had to make do with my brief glimpse of the mountain out of the train window on my way into tow- before he retreated behind a veil of clouds... Oh well, next time we will get better acquainted.
And today I jumped on the train and off I went to Nikko. So stunning I thought my heart would explode. The autumn leaves were raging like little star shaped fires. Every which way you look there are mountains jutting up into the sky- encasing you with their tree covered facades, the different staged leaves making it look as though someone has spilled a set of autumnal paints down the slopes. Oh my god, it was so splendid! And then as you walk more, there are rivers and streams which carve out their paths through the mountains and the trees, sailing over glistening river stones- the crystal blue of the water set wonderfully against the rich green of the moss at its edge.
Nikko is famous for its shrines and temples. They are world heritage listed... which I think they are pretty proud of, because they take every opportunity to remind you of it.
But there is a reason they are. There are a large number of these shrines and temples, nestled in amongst the forest. The towering trees soar perfectly vertically up above, the moss creeps along the tangled roots, the japanese maples crackle and burn- all shades from dull and resigned orange to a brilliant heart-wrenching vermillion- and the temples/shrines pulse with presence and character.
Nikko was spectacular. It moved me so very much... It made me realise how little time I have left, and how hard I will now push to make sure I can soak up as much as possible.
Japan is my dreamworld it is a fairy land. I am so happy here!
I have been thinking about my trip in terms of someone's favourite song... Wyoming was that first riff, that first little trill that really grabs you and makes your hair stand on end. The rest of America was that part in the first verse, where the song is sort of still getting going. You've grown to love that section because you adore the song... but you always want it to hurry up and get to the good bit when you're playing it to a friend, because you're scared they'll quit before it really picks up and they'll never know how good it could have been. Holland was the chorus. You can sing it over and over and over and it will never lose its resonance. Not even for a second. And everytime you hear it, a little part of you lights up. Italy was your favourite verse, the one with the lyrics you like the best. France was that bit where it dies down for a second... nothing much happens, it goes quiet... because it is leading up to something. And Japan, Japan is that something. You know that moment in a song, that one where something snaps and everything just explodes in pure perfection. It is that part of the song you are secretly waiting for all along, where the singer bends their voice just right, or there is a spectacular piano trill, or the drums and trumpets start up. That part that makes your heart jump into your throat when it happens. That is Japan.
So, that is how I would describe my trip... and being so close to the end, I don't think I can say "so far" anymore... but you never know I guess...
That's all...
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