The Japanese and Their Parks

When I talk about Japan, do you sometimes think of ninjas creeping through the forests? Or how about that bonsai tree given by Mr. Miyagi that the Karate Kid always struggled to keep alive? Japanese tea gardens? Japanese rock gardens? Japanese people are fond of nature, it really is true.

During the week, people hum along under the power of the electric train system, commuting to work, walking miles through concrete jungles, working 5AM to 5PM. It's really incredible- I thought the Americans were work-a-holics (we actually do work more). I was always told the Japanese are perfectionists, obsessed by anything they cannot master immediately, always on the path of self-improvement. Even as I write this at 10PM, my host mother is reading an English dictionary and writing down words, memorizing them.

How can people live for an extended period of time like this? Well I think there are a couple of reasons. While nearly everyone lives in a large metropolis, you can see nature from almost any place in Japan. Large, smooth mountains act as the backdrop of daily life in Japan. Japanese people are comforted by them- the mountains are what they connect with more than anything and what seem to represent the people on a more deep and personal level. These people talk about their mountains nearly every day, they don't get sick of them. Also, the Japanese have made sure that large, intricate, incredibly gorgeous parks are scattered throughout their cities, and they go there to connect with nature every single weekend. The parks are quiet. They are something out of a sculpture. Every blade of grass is placed by divine message, it seems. Every stream flows in ways most pleasing to the eye, and blossoming tree orchards seem to crop up in coves around ponds and in between bamboo groves. I wonder how much of this is planned and how much of it is natural-it's nearly impossible to tell. Japanese people enjoy the beauty of nature as hard as they work during the weeks.

Last weekend, after a hard rain knocked all the Sakura blossoms off the trees and broke the hearts of all the Japanese people living in the Osaka/ Kyoto area, my family decided to take advantage of low crowds to go to some local parks.









The first Koen (park) was a ten minute drive from the house. It was a small park situated around a large pond/ small lake- similar to lakes in Wisconsin. However, this was a public park, there were no man-made structures except for the walkways- all paved. There were people from all walks of live, young families, couples, groups of divas walking around in 5 inch heels, their hair glued perfectly into the latest trend, bird watchers with camera lenses longer than their bodies, runners, cyclists, dog-walkers, anything you could imagine. The park was beautiful. The main path was two-car widths, and circled the lake and surrounding bamboo groves in about a 3km loop. The part we entered from was cool and dark, overhead trees shading out the sun.

I have noticed how natural the Japanese look in their forests. The forests here are different from America. The forests here are tinges of tan and black, deep, muddy greens. The complexion and skin color of all the people looks beautiful with the forest as a backdrop, they really do blend in and disappear- their dark hair melting into the shadows, and skin tones blending with the intermittent sunlight and tree bark. I looked at myself against the backdrop- a sore thumb. The pink tints of my skin clashed with the amber light that filtered through the trees. When some my hair got caught in sunlight, it shone gold (not sounding conceited here) in a place where there is no natural golden color. My eyes, being blue, are obviously different. Easier to see, they stand out from my face and from the background of the forest. I can't disappear into their forests, just like they wouldn't be able to disappear among the golden tassels of the cornfields in my back yard.





This shady pathway opened up to a bridge crossing a quieter part of the pond. It was shallow, and lily pads floated up on the surface of the water here. I could make out the murky shapes of frying pan-sized turtles skirting by, just underneath the surface of the water. People leaned on the railing of the bridge,smoking, resting, quietly admiring the giant coy swimming lazily underneath the bridge. It was quiet. The sun was warm on my face- it was the first truly balmy day of Spring.







We moved on to a flat, grassy area that dipped out into the lake a bit. Most of the people here were sitting on blankets on the grass. Every Japanese family has invested good money on a quality picnic set. Kids ran around in the sunshine while parents lay, relaxing. College kids all gathered in the shade of trees guffawing and sharing obento's (boxed lunches). My host mom herself pulled out a thermos from her purse and poured us each some coffee, about the size of a shot. The Japanese really do everything in moderation. We sat in the hot sun drinking our hot coffee, not feeling the need to say anything in particular, but feeling content to watch cranes swoop low over the water. So this is how Japanese people make it through their work week.







We visited a lot of different areas in the park as well. There were gardens everywhere. Most of the park was in an in between stage. All of the sakura had fallen, but the other flowers hadn't quite bloomed yet, so there was a lot of green and a lot of little budlings. Regardless, it was gorgeous. there were sticky sweet smells coming from everywhere, but the bugs hadn't made it out yet. Big, fat cats lay out on large rocks and on the paths in the gardens, homeless, but more than happy to live in this garden. I understood where they were coming from.







That brings me to another point on Japanese parks. America, whenever there is a beautiful garden, someone has painstakingly pruned and cared for it, essentially developing it into their own personal 10th wonder of the world. After it is complete and is deemed a masterpiece, the gardener then ropes it off and people admire it from a safe distance. And the garden IS beautiful. And everyone is satisfied. That's not how it works in Japan. If something looks particularly beautiful, people walk up to it, touch it, take pictures with it. Whenever I saw something beautiful in this park I would always stop and stare at it. My host family would go walk into the garden that had no designated paths to get a closer look. Naturally, I quickly embraced this way of thinking. If it is beautiful, get closer to it, figure it out. It's very neat.

Your Average American Girl in Slightly Different-Than-Expected Circumstance.

Well everyone, after a lengthy hiatus, I am back in action here. I have been insanely busy the last few weeks, to say the least. I had a long paper to write, classes to select and register for (which required a coordinated effort with America which is no easy feat considering the time difference), my post graduation job to pick out, internship details to look over, lots of homework to do, etc, etc. Needless to say, I was holding my breath for a while, so this whole operation had to fall between the cracks for a while. But here are the results of all that hard work:

1) I have a complete class schedule picked out for next semester and for next Spring semester. It's official: I will graduate on time, with a double major in International Politics and Japanese, with a minor in Military Leadership. Bam- that feels good :) Plus, I am managing to only take 13 credits in my last semester of my senior year, half of which will be ROTC courses. I like this.

2) I figured out international miscommunication that had raised by student accounts balance by $4000 (yikes!)

3) I have planned time with loved ones around my incredibly jam-packed summer schedule.

4) I found out my boyfriend was going to Afghanistan, which freed up my summer in the most unfortunate sort of way.

5) I was given the classification of 14NX, making me an Intelligence Officer- pretty cool, I think.

6) I (not single-handedly) planned a week-long trip from Japan to America incredibly last minute, but successfully.

7) Marathon training.

*Unrelated, but I have to buy a suit.

8) I am now dreaming in Japanese and struggling to find words in English.

9) I got an A on most of my midterms.

10) I realized how blessed I am to be an American and to have a home where so many people love me and support me, even if they are 7,500 miles away.

Life has thrown me a lot of curve balls in the past two weeks. I have bawled, I have laughed until I cried, I have felt numb, even went through an entire day where I continually kept mixing up 4 separate languages before finally giving up at 5PM and going to bed. I have gone through several sleepless nights, I have felt homesick, heartsick, small, overwhelmed by the beauty of the country I am living in, and I have felt anger towards people who were spared my rage only by the sheer 7,500 mile distance between us. I'm not naming any names, Student Accounts Office. But through it all, I have come out with my head above water, and in a relatively sane place. I am ready to move forward with the cards I am dealt, knowing I can make those cards do a lot of different things.

Etc...

Hi,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while! Life has been keeping me busy. However, I have made a short DVD with photos and music, and all the bells and whistles, about my time here so far. If anyone wants a copy mailed to them, please let me know and get me your address.

I'll be blogging again soon, promise!

Sarah

I also updated and added some more info to my Hiroshima Blog.

OZUMO!

I capitalized the title of this post because Ozumo is a big event. Literally. Ozumo= sumo. Sumo wrestlers are probably the largest people I will see in Japan, but man, can they move!

After returning from Toyama with my family, I decided to take a day off. A day of recovery after being overexposed to family members and overfed by family members all weekend, if you will. My brain was fried because I had heard nothing but very fast Japanese for the past two days, and I needed a break. I needed Americans, and something closely resembling American culture.

Fat men slamming into each other in a semi-violent setting seemed like it would do the trick, so my 2 fellow Valparaiso women and I agreed to meet at the train station the following day to enjoy a day of sumo. Luckily, our Spring break fell right within the Osaka March Sumo Tournament. The next day, around 0900, if I recall correctly, we set out from Hirakata-shi towards Osaka. We caught what we thought was the Tokkyu line, but after ending up in Naniwabashi, a station none of us had ever been to, we realized we had caught the other rapid express line. While we had attempted to call trains by their Japanese names before the mishap, we now have resorted to calling the lines by their colors. 'Remember, let's not catch the purple line, but the red line'. Such foreigners we are, sometimes.

Anyways, we finally reached our destination station, Yodoyobashi. Yodoyobashi, along with most of the stations in Osaka, are huge, super-hubs that usually house one or more train line, along with one or more subway lines, and a mall. One cannot simply find Yodoyobashi station and get on the first train they see. You have to sniff them out. There is Yodoyobashi Keihan, Yodoyobashi JR, Midosuji, and at least one more line that I can think of (and they all conveniently don't go in the same directions). We caught the proper line (Midosuji) to the stop that looked like it would be closest to the Osaka Prefectural Gymnasium (Namba)and set off walking.

Osaka is a big city, second largest in Japan actually, but I am beginning to think after several trips to it that no one actually lives there. The streets are relatively quiet, people are not packed onto sidewalks like the video clips one generally see of Tokyo where oceans of people flow non-stop through crosswalks. It is quiet, and as we kept walking it got quieter and less attractive. We all simultaniously got the feeling that we had crossed the 'magic line' into a neighborhood that is not intended for tourism. There was no one on the streets, though we were surrounded on all sides by skyscrapers, malls, and towering freeways, there were really no people. It was like in the Western films when you hear the protagonist whisper,"It's quiet. Too quiet." We eventually decided to stop and ask someone who looked like a cop where the Osaka Taikukan was. He graciously told us that we were very close and gave us turn by turn directions, walking us to orient us in the proper direction. Japanese Keisatsu (police) are much more helpful than American police officers, and much better at giving directions. I personally feel that it's because all Japanese cops really have to do is give directions. There is virtually no crime in Japan. I can actually draw a close similarity between the Elmhurst and Japanese Police. A cat is stuck in a tree, call for backup. Someone's tail light is out, call for more backup. Get your bicycle ready, we may have a chase here. At least the Elmhurst Police have weapons just in case things get ugly. No police officer throughout all of Japan is authorized to carry a gun. Interesting.




With the help of the friendly city guide, we quickly found the Gymnasium. There were brilliant banners flapping all over the face of the entrance, and immediately inside stands were set up, each stand and their occupants looking as if they belonged to different clubs or organizations. They all wore traditional Japanese clothing, kimonos all around. Some of the stands looked like they maybe had customers, which led me to believe that these were possibly stands set up to take bets on the outcome of the tournament. I never really found out, but speculation is ok with me. We proceeded to purchase tickets, 3000円 a pop, but for second tier seating. The women working the ticket counter all huddled around the box I was ordering the tickets from,
"Oh, you're so pretty like movie star!"
"Thanks?" The 3000 yen was a good deal. However, we decided to wait a while (since it was only about 1030) before entering because the tickets were not the come-and-go-as-you-please type.




A sumo tournament takes course over a span of 15 days. There are several different skill levels in every tournament. Each person has one match per day, and the person with the most wins by the end of the tournament in each skill level is declared the victor in their category. Each day, there are opening ceremonies, followed by the lowest skill levels, and followed by more skilled competitors (rikishi). So the later in the day it is, the more people show up, the more exciting the matches become, and the more televised they become.

Since we wanted to skip over the less skilled rikishi, we decided to check out a nearby mall and see what we could find. We found a Starbucks! Now, I am not one to drink coffee, but Starbucks was advertising something called the Sakura steamer. Sakura cherry blossoms in Japan are world renowned, so around this time every year, everything becomes sakura-themed (tiny, pink, and flowery). I figured I would only be in Japan and able to try the Sakura steamer once, so we all went and ordered one. They were interesting, light pink drinks. They had a vaguely salty cherry-ish flavor. They were different, but we enjoyed them none-the-less. It really was bizarre sitting in a S'bucks in downtown Osaka listening to the same music that I always heard in the S'bucks in Illinois. After the finishing the Sakura Steamers and being creepily eye-balled by a man across the cafe, we decided to set out to explore the mall more.





Our search lead us to a partially-subterranean mall with shops ranging from 'Hollywood fashion' to Toys R' Us to homemade Indian Hemp and cultural trinkets, to a store that may have been started by Lady Gaga herself. Japanese malls are very interesting, I'll just say.



The Opiginal.



Navy stuff in Japan (granted, it was on clearance)



Of course.



Is this why their view of American women is so distorted, and why they assume we all have blonde hair and are baked to a crisp?



The Japanese version of easy-bake oven. Instead of cupcakes, you can make tacoyaki! (Octopus balls)



AWESOME shoes.





Creepy face on a box. They eyes move and so does the mouth. It's a nightmare.



Markey Sharkey, he he he.






After we had our senses thoroughly overwhelmed, we agreed it was time to head back to the sumo tourney. It was about 1400 by that time, so the amateurs were still going at it, but the higher levels were getting ready to start. We entered the Gymnasium and were led to our seats by a young woman in a lime green jacket. Most of the people who were working could actually speak English relatively well;we were all surprised. We set our things in our seats and set off to find souveniers and snacks (the stadium was nearly empty still). This is when the assumption that sumo would be almost American was overthrown.

There were no hot dog stands or the Japanese version of hot dog stands anywhere. There were several gift shops, but they all sold the same things, and had very limited snack food. We all know it is not like that in America. Anyone and everyone who can make a buck off of a sporting event does so, and with flourish, too. Right about when we began to panic (we had assumed we could eat lunch in the stadium) we came across a stand with a modest selection of sandwiches and more edible food-stuffs. Having purchased those and some souvenirs, we made our way back to our seats, content once more. While eating our lunch, we looked around the stadium and noticed that the people in the 'box' seats ( 4 cushions on the ground separated from the next 4 cushions by silver piping) were getting food delivered to them. We didn't pout about it too much, because none of us was fluent enough to find, call, order, and give directions to a restaurant. It was just one of those cultural bridges we knew we would not cross (and I think we were all ok with it).

We sat in our seats, and we chatted about life and we watched sumo and we drank our drinks. It all felt very natural. We all gasped at the same time as the Japanese people around us whenever a rikishi flew out of the ring into the crowd. It was fun, it was relaxing, it was everything a sporting event should be!










However, the core of Sumo is very religious, and all of the clothing, rituals, motions, etc is all anchored in Shinto religion at some distant point in the past. The Yokozuna, or reigning champion, top rikishi, whatever you wish to describe him as, performs a purifying ceremony later in the day, that we were lucky enough to catch. The crowd grows silent, so you know something is about to happen. And sure enough, a high ranking referee and 3 rikishi appear from the tunnels where the athletes emerge. One of the rikishi holds a katana (sword). The middle rikishi wears a large, white rope belt over his regular sumo belt. The belt weighs 25-30lbs, or so I am told. The last rikishi follows behind the first 2. All 4 members step up onto the raised ring platform, and the Rikishi in the middle (the Yokozuna) steps forward into the middle of the ring. The crowd screams and cheers for him as he centers himself. Then, as his arm raises towards the sky, palm up the crowd hushes. He flips his hand, palm down, and brings it down to rest on his large flant. He then lifts this leg up high, and the roar of the crowd rips through the silence as his foot slams down on the sand in the ring. Then they immediately hush once more. He repeats this ritual with the other hand and leg and crowd repeats their seemingly-choreographed shouts. The Rikishi then centers himself once more and turns to walk out of the ring with the other rikishi following. An excited crowd calls after him as he exits the arena.







Now, this would be cool just to watch, but I need to know what the meaning is. I'm sure you would like to know as well, so here are the meanings behind this giant's dance. The sword bearing rikishi is the 'sword-bearer' for the Yokozuna. There are no weapons used in sumo, it is purely symbolic. The large white belt worn by the Yokozuna is a purely shinto symbol. The white belt with white tassles is said to be worn by the kami, or gods. The color white represents purity. The rikishi raises his hands, palm up to show that he is not concealing any weapons. The rikishi then lifts his leg and stamps the ground, symbolically stomping out all evil from the ring. These actions are performed by all rikishi, no matter what skill level you are. Interesting, no?

Well, what a day it was. I learned a LOT of new things about sumo, to pack my own meals for sporting events, to maybe start calling trains by their colors, and to never miss a chance to try something new or explore a Japanese mall. It's a good one for the memory book!

-Sarah