Biwa-ko and Back

Good Evening All

I am at a loss for words. I can barely move in Kyoto without sweating liters and having heat induced hallucinations. Before arriving in Japan, I was under the impression that Kyoto and Seattle lay on roughly the same longitude. After researching for a quick second I have found that I was correct. However, despite the fact that Kyoto and Seattle are separated by just ten longitudinal degrees-Seattle being further north-summer in Kyoto has proved drastically different.

One can only imagine how hot it can get in 31 degree centigrade weather with 80% humidity in school desks designed for my cute little cousins back home, but it is hard to fathom the heat endured by Kyoto’s famous Maiko and Geiko (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as Geisha). One week ago, instead of my weekly Japanese research class, a guest Maiko-san so graciously came to Ritsumeikan University and shared a short demonstration as well as a question and answer period for the Study in Kyoto Program students.

The demonstration consisted of two short dances of the utmost elegance and simplicity. It was very interesting to witness such a formulated dance routine performed by such a young girl talented. Well aware of how precise and carefully Maiko-san are trained in all of the arts they practice, ranging from dance, shamisen, drums, calligraphy and song, I couldn’t help but noticed the individual influence this particular Miako-san had added to her seemingly flawless performance. For one, the songs were about love and the neighborhood of Gion (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as the Geisha district of Kyoto) and, of course, Love. The most interesting dance, I thought, was a short anecdote about a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower, undecided as to which one would be appropriate to settle upon; the song was about love. It was not until after the question and answer period that I realized why I had taken interest in this Maiko-san’s particular interpretation of the dance. The girl was fully and officially trained, white faced, restricted from getting married at the cost of losing her job and a mere 17 years old. Could there not be other reasons for young girl to so thoughtfully display wistfulness when expressing love through dance? And she was wearing many layers of thick Kimono; she must have been suffering the same kind of heat that I was at the time, of course.



In addition to practicing my regular school routine in this ridiculous heat and constantly rising humidity, I have also been attending my cycling circle without fail. This past weekend we took our biggest trip of the year so far. After heading east for 40 kilomteres, ten of which being steep, winding hills, fourteen members of the Ritsumeikan Cycling Club (RCC) reached the shores of Biwa-ko (Lake Biwa), the largest lake in Japan. Upon our arrival, we immediately stopped by a nearby onsen (public bath) to relieve our tense muscles and enjoy the company of gargling, naked, old Japanese men.

For dinner the RCC posted up on the beach of Biwa-ko and made huge batch of white curry rice with chicken potatoes and onion, a seemingly appropriate dish for fourteen hungry cyclists. With the sun well behind the horizon, we finally arrived at our humble youth hostel, just steps away from the lake’s shore. I was stunned when I walked in the entrance our room, to find all tatami mats, futon stacked in a smaller removed room and my favourite squatter toilet. There is nothing more comfortable than laying on tatami mats, drinking beer, playing cards and lighting fireworks on a shoreline.

Another 40 kilometers back home and I had successfully completed my longest round trip in Japan thus far. I were to share my favourite part of the trip, it would have to be my reunion with the utterly pacifying presence of water. As a resident of Seattle, I spend everyday surrounded by bodies of water and to be completely removed from such an easily forgotten joy of living in the northwest was much harder than I had thought. However, with the opportunity provided to me by the RCC and the endurance of my aching, sweaty self I was able to make contact with water and it was just as I remembered.

Shout out to Chloe, my sister, for she is departing to Israel tomorrow. Travel well Chloe, study hard and stay safe, for we will miss you and be thinking of you often.

Until Next Time.

Language: Barrier

Evening

3:40am. Sunday. June the 1st. What to do? I just vacated a prolonged session of karaoke. The room was to small. The room was too loud. I hate the smell of cigarettes. John Coltrane, Giant Steps-if you haven't listened yet, please do.

What I am trying to say is that language and the barriers it creates can get one into the most interesting situations. A prime example could certainly be my experience today during my field trip at a 200 year old residence in the city of Kyoto, capital of Japan from 794-1868.

When I arrived seven minutes early at the meeting point, I was met by a handful of my fellow classmates and a former Sensei of mine, Mitsui Sensei. As i waited outside the 200 year old house I began to converse with the only native English speaker present, a Canadian born male by the nickname of Spence. He and I exchanged remarks about what we did the night before. He went to a drag queen show downtown, I went to a hip-hop, reggae, rock, DJ show in the neighbourhood. Enthralled in the conversation that Spence and I held, we did not, for a few moments time, take notice of the blatant language barrier that had been unconsciously constructed among the eight students present. There were, in fact, two females conversing in French, two females speaking in Japanese-one of which was Korean-and a male and female speaking in Mandarin, respectively.

Instinct. Comfort. Exhaustion. Hangover. What was it that split our group of eight into four, multi-lingual pairs?

I thought about that multilingual encounter all throughout the hour-long explanation of the 200 year-old house that i quietly sat in, cross-legged, poised, knees hurting from sitting in seiza position (google it). Our lovely guide in a tasteful grey Kimono and orange Obi, shared with us the secrets and subtle nuances of the house that she had been born and raised in. From the iron cast iron doors to the early 19th century one-way security windows, our multi-lingual group sat silent, listening to our common language, Japanese.

Simple as it may seem, the encounter I had today has emerged numerous times since September of last year and has made a profound impact on my awareness of the concept of a common language and language barriers.

It had become light outside, 4:40am. I can hear the birds, but they sound the same, as if they were in my own backyard in Seattle.

Shout out to Danny Parker and my second family on the occasion of Danny's graduation. I wish I could be with you guys basking in the sun, praising achievements and riding scooters in Hawaii.

Until Next Time